Black Glove Pirates
by Sir Gar the Bold
Summary: Cast out of the organization in which she was born, Black Glove Cassandra sets out to prove that she can make her name resound throughout the heavens... by becoming the first Queen of the Pirates. NON-CANONICAL, no Mugiwaras. M for gory scenes/swearing.
1. A Rough Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. I do own the OCs and the places. Any resemblance to One Piece characters, weapons, or events were strictly unintentional, though might be quite similar.

Speaking of events, this NON-CANONICAL (in case you missed that) work takes place several decades after the Mugiwaras. Bear with me here.

* * *

Life as a pirate was proving harder than expected. It was one thing to think of starting a completely new career as a pirate; it was another to actually do so. Her head swam as she tried to remember all of the nautical terms and functions she had memorized so she could survive as a pirate. This was not what was causing her trouble. At least, it wasn't causing her trouble at the moment. What was stumping her was how she was going to proceed.

Gathering a crew was an obvious first step. That was why she was docked at an island. Well, her ship was beached on an island. It was an empty beach that obviously didn't have a lot of foot traffic, but it was still a beach. It was the only way she was going to approach an island. Although she had money to dock, and she hadn't committed any crimes that the public would be informed of, she didn't want to leave her ship both undefended and easy to find. That was definitely a downside of being alone. But that was the decision she had made, to start over from scratch. She was going to be a pirate and that was that.

She exited her quarters and leaned on the railing overlooking the main deck. Her white cowboy hat kept the sun out of her eyes as she scanned the ship for signs of life. She didn't see any, and she didn't think that she would find any if she searched the rest of the ship. Her father had only given her enough men to get her to an island of his choosing, one near the junction between the Red Line and the Calm Belt. Of course, this was only for convenience's sake. She had no intention of venturing outside of West Blue before she had a sizeable crew that she could depend on.

Not at all disappointed that the men had left her to her own devices, she vaulted over the railing and landed on the main deck. She entered the galley that rested below her room and circumnavigated the mizzenmast to access the kitchen. A bowl of apples rested on the counter, undoubtedly a parting gift from one of her relatives. Plucking an apple up and rubbing it on her dark orange T-shirt, she took a bite and entered the sunlight once more. She always loved the first bite out of a nice, crisp apple, and eating an apple now seemed like a perfect way to start her new life.

After checking over the side to see that the water was shallow enough to land in, she leapt overboard in one fluid motion. The reunion with the ground was softened by the water and sand beneath her feet and she was able to walk immediately afterwards with no adverse feelings other than the stiffness of wet blue jeans. She checked her weapons - two knives up her sleeves, two knives tucked into her bright red cowboy boots, a pair of pistols securely strapped into their holsters - as she walked away from her ship. It wouldn't do if she were surprised and she couldn't respond appropriately.

After walking for a bit, the beginnings of civilization started to appear here and there. Small shacks grew out of the most random places, bits of trash were discarded everywhere, and people occasionally wove their way through the mess. Her naturally enhanced senses picked up bits of conversation, peculiar smells, and visible details, and she paid attention to them all. Her paranoia wouldn't let her be caught unawares, even on an island with a peaceful reputation. She was no stranger to reputations that turned out to be false.

Eventually, a large wall loomed into view, blocking out what lay behind it. Two massive gates barred the entrance to outsiders with what looked like a tollbooth in front of them. She halted and frowned, reflexively moving out of the way of the man immediately behind her. She watched as the grimy fellow staggered past the tollbooth without so much as a look from the tollbooth operator. The beginning pirate knew she shouldn't expect such an easy entry. After all, she was carrying weapons, and she would have to surrender them.

Casting her hazel eyes about, she finally saw a possible solution. Heading some ways off the path and glancing about to make sure nobody was watching, she selected a rock and lifted it up. Loosening all six of her weapons, she stashed them beneath the rock and settled it back down. She had no real attachment to her weapons, but they were hers and she didn't want to lose them. In the unlikely event they were stolen, she had a few backups, but she would rather keep those backups as backups and not have to replace anything. Satisfied, she went back to the entrance and approached the tollbooth.

"Hello!" said the woman inside the small structure. "Welcome to Alamentia. You must be lost or have nowhere to go, my dear. I am Sister Elizabeth and I hope you enjoy your stay here." Glancing uncertainly at Sister Elizabeth, the pirate took a step towards the gates. Sister Elizabeth stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to go through. Satisfied that her abandonment of weapons was sufficient, she continued on through.

She had not gone two steps into the town when a voice called out to her in a whisper. "Psst! You there!" The pirate looked around. She saw a hand beckoning her from an alley and decided to investigate. She trusted her reflexes and the peacefulness of the town to get her out of any trouble that might appear. She ventured into the mouth of the alleyway and saw that same hand gesturing from behind a trash can. She briefly considered ignoring the person, but someone who obviously didn't want to be seen was someone worth investigating. Even on this island, shady dealings were bound to produce at least some useful results. With that in mind, she walked around the waste disposal unit and reacted instinctively when the person lunged at her.

When she realized that the woman she was holding in a fierce headlock probably needed air, she loosened her grip ever so slightly. "Who are you?"

The woman twisted to look up at her from her trapped position. "You've got to get me out of here! You have no idea the torture they put me through!"

Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, the pirate quickly assayed her would-be attacker. The smells of paint and incense clung most strongly to the nun's robes, but the faint, unmistakable odors of tobacco and alcohol were unexpected. Her heartbeat was rapid, but her breath wasn't ragged or uneven. She wasn't terribly afraid. This woman was interesting.

The pirate released her victim and looked her up and down. She wore the black and white habit of a nun, but her robes were cut in places, making them appear more like a sleeveless shirt and long pants. Her robes were also splashed with various bright colors, probably using some sort of paint. The nun was half a head taller than the slim pirate, and her milky skin contrasted with the pirate's amber tone. Upon deciding the nun was no threat to her, the pirate offered a gloved hand to help the other woman to her feet. "What kind of torture?"

The other woman was about to open her mouth when a shrill voice cut through the air. "Lyn Mojigata! You get back here this instant!" The voice paused for a moment, then quieted down considerably. "And do bring your friend with you. We simply must meet her."

The pirate looked around in surprise. She couldn't see anybody near her or watching them, and she couldn't smell anyone close enough to speak so clearly. Where was that voice coming from? This mystery didn't please her in the least. She was even more surprised to see Lyn acting as if the disembodied voice were totally fine. The nun was focused on dusting herself off and smoothing her pitch black hair. "Great. Now they want to meet you. What are you, a merchant? Soldier?" She leaned in closer. "Pirate?"

Her response was a non-committal shrug. "Something like that."

"Well come on," Lyn said, stepping out of the alley and back into the bright sunlight. "I'm Lyn Mojigata, by the way."

The pirate waited for a moment, considering the pros and cons of using her real name. "Cassandra," she said at last.

"Any more to your name?" Lyn asked as she ducked under a ladder being carried by a rather large man.

"Captain." It was a bit presumptuous, but now was as good a time as any to start getting used to her title. "See that you use it all."

Lyn gave a conspiratorial grin. "Oh, so that's how it is. Well then, Captain Cassandra, is this your first visit to Alamentia?"

Cassandra saw no harm in admitting the truth. "Yes."

"Okay, so Alamentia is a peaceful island," Lyn began explaining. "The towns are all protected by walls to keep outsiders out and are run by monasteries and convents. This particular town is run by the convent that I happen to be a part of."

The pirate raised an eyebrow. "You're a nun."

"Don't look like one, do I?" Lyn chirped as she twirled about, showing off her artistic choice of clothing. "Right now, I'm not a full sister, but I'm getting there. Anyway, back to what I was saying, the nuns run this town pretty well. We're all spiritually adept, so we can stop most crimes before they start. Those who actually commit crimes are punished quite severely."

"That reminds me," Cassandra interrupted. "You mentioned you were being tortured. Care to elaborate?"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Lyn Mojigata, this is the 3rd time this week you've run off without telling anybody," an old nun said tiredly. Lyn leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms defiantly. Cassandra closed her eyes, thinking back on the day's events.

After dragging Cassandra halfway across the expansive city and taking three hours to do so, they had arrived at another set of black and gold gates, smaller than the ones ringing the city and no less impressive. Mysteriously, the gates had opened by themselves, but Lyn seemed used to the occurrence and simply walked through. Nuns were everywhere, walking back and forth in their black and white robes. The older ones had been eyeing Lyn disapprovingly. The younger ones looked upon her with a mixture of respect and cautiousness, as if Lyn were some fearsome war hero. Lyn had strolled among them, chatting animatedly to Cassandra, but ignoring everybody else.

They entered an enormous nunnery through an large set of double doors. They had not taken three steps before a strict-looking woman had stormed up to them, ranting at Lyn, who had started yelling back just as loudly. Cassandra had paid strict attention to what they were saying, which was mostly composed of the sister's complaints that Lyn was an unruly child and Lyn's arguments that they were suffocating her. The argument had continued as the trio made their way through the nunnery into an ordinary-looking room. An old woman was sitting in a wooden chair behind a desk, studying a large tome through a pair of thick eyeglasses. All three women had sat down without a single change of pace.

Cassandra was snapped back to the present as the strict-looking woman slammed her hand down onto the desk. "Listen to her when she's talking to you, Novice!"

"Calm down, Sister Jirana," the old woman sighed, her voice sounding as frail as ancient parchment left out in the sun. She placed her elbows on the desk and meshed her fingers, putting her forehead on her hands. "Lyn…" She raised her head and stared directly at the woman in question. "Why do you do this to us? No matter what we do, from kindness to tough love, doesn't even affect your behavior in the slightest. Why?"

Lyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, remaining silent. Sister Jirana slammed her hand down again, causing Lyn and Cassandra to start slightly. "Listen! Or else!"

The novice whipped around and started shouting, "Or else what? What can you do to me that you haven't already?"

Sister Jirana's mouth became a thin line across her face, her expression one of rage. "Don't push your luck, Novice," she sneered.

Lyn shot up, knocking her chair to the floor. "Just try it, Sister."

"Enough," the old nun said. She slowly pushed back her chair and stood up. "As you mentioned, we can't do anything to you we haven't already. Please guide Novice Mojigata to our prayer room, Sister."

Cassandra didn't miss the look that the ancient sister gave Sister Jirana. Sister Jirana grinned victoriously and seized Lyn about the arm, forcibly dragging her out of the room. The remaining nun sighed and slowly sat back down, pulling her chair towards the deck. "And you, miss? Who are you?"

"Cassandra, sister," Cassandra responded, choosing to omit the fact that she was trying to be a pirate captain.

"I am Abbess Atiqua," the old sister said, nodding slowly. "Yes…"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow as the sister seemed to nod off. She sat patiently, waiting for the abbess to resume. When she didn't, Cassandra cleared her throat loudly. The abbess remained immobile for a moment, then seemed to snap awake. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "It was just a thief…"

This reminded the pirate captain about something Lyn had mentioned previously. "Novice Mojigata used the term 'spiritually adept.' Can you explain what that means"

Abbess Atiqua nodded slowly. "I see she has been speaking of our sacred art of soul removal. Trouble yourself not with such information. Simply enjoy your visit here." The loud ringing of a pair of bells interrupted her conversation. The elderly woman nodded again. "How apt. Would you like to join us for lunch?"

Cassandra bowed her head slightly. "I would be delighted to."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Methodically spooning soup into her mouth, Cassandra looked around the dining hall. Ornate frescoes covered the lofty walls, depicting ancient angels saving masses of people from dark demons. Simple wooden tables sat in neat rows, with thin benches on either side. Unlit lanterns littered the walls and ceiling; the sunlight streaming through wide arched windows near the ceiling was enough to fill the room with light. Nuns and novices, ranging from little girls to elderly ladies, ate in near silence. Conversations were being held in low voices, but Cassandra could hear that they were talking about her.

The pirate turned to the abbess seated beside her to try a new tactic. "Tell me, Sister, what does it take to become a nun?"

Abbess Atiqua slowly turned to her. "Oh… so you wish to become a woman of peace. Has Novice Mojigata not deterred you from our way of life?"

"This place is interesting," Cassandra lied smoothly. "The novice seems unruly and unrepresentative of the overall population here."

The ancient woman gave a brittle smile. "A wise observation. I must warn you: it is not easy to become part of our order. First, you must cleanse your body. Then, you must cleanse your mind. Finally, you must cleanse your soul. Cleansing your body is fairly easy, cleansing your mind is fairly hard. But truly cleansing your soul… this is an endeavor which lasts a lifetime."

"I see. Might I learn more?"

"Come here, child." The abbess suddenly leaned in. Cassandra tried to jerk backwards, but something invisible prevented her from even budging from her seat. Abbess Atiqua cupped Cassandra's cheek and closed her eyes. The fact that the room had gone completely silent wasn't lost upon Cassandra. The elder remained in this position for quite some time; indeed, nobody in the room moved at all. After far too long a time for Cassandra's liking, the abbess withdrew, opening her eyes and staring at her with a fiery vigor that hadn't been there before.

"Child, it seems you have a problem," she began. "Your body… it has a devil hiding inside." All of the nuns gasped. "Your mind is too blinded by doubt, cynicism, and skepticism. But your soul… your soul has been irreparably stained by the souls of others." Everybody gasped again. "All of our souls are pure, and we can achieve enlightenment. But you… you have slain others in cold blood. You are far too dangerous to let wander the streets of this city. I am sorry, young one, to have to tell you this, but you will be confined for the rest of your visit. We will pray for your soul, may it rest in peace."

Cassandra felt invisible arms hoist her up and frog-march her through the center of the room. Cassandra tried in vain to struggle, but quickly gave up, settling for letting her invisible captors lead her. She was led through hallway after hallway, a dizzying maze which seemed to go on forever. She memorized every twist and turn, creating a mental map of the abbey. Nuns, both young and old, stared at her, shocked. She kept her face impassive, not willing to show her fear and irritation.

After a few hours of marching, or so it seemed, she was finally led to a thick metal door. The door opened seemingly of its own accord, and she was hurled through, tumbling over the rush-covered floor. She lay still for a moment, breathing shallowly. Eventually, she was able to push herself to a crawling position, then to a sitting position against the wall. She looked around. A single candle lay in the middle of the room. An enormous bookshelf covered one of the walls. The red sandstone-brick wall next to that one was bare, save for a window with opaque yellow glass, which gave the room an unearthly air. The third wall was blank and the fourth sported the massive metal door through which she had come. She sighed and put her head back, mentally cursing at herself for being so foolish. She should never have discarded her weapons.

She looked around and her eyes fell upon the pile of rags in the corner. She got up and slowly walked over to it. She tried to pull on one of the rags to form a makeshift bed, but the rag seemed to be weighed down by something. She pulled harder and, to her surprise, the rags moved on their own. A pair of electric blue eyes gazed up at her, causing her to pause. The rags moved further, exposing a wide grin and disheveled black hair.

"Hey, Captain Cassandra!" Lyn said jovially. "How nice of you to come!"

* * *

And so begins the journey through the world Oda so masterfully created. I can only hope my story entertains you all as much as it entertains me.


	2. Escaping a Paper Prison

And here it is, the second chapter of the Black Glove Pirates.

* * *

"Hey, Captain Cassandra!" Lyn chirped jovially. "How nice of you to come!"

"Lyn?" Cassandra pulled the novice up. "What are you doing here?"

"This is one of the 'prayer rooms,'" Lyn said, making exaggerated quotation marks in the air. "This is where they keep troublemakers, hooligans, and ne'er-do-wells."

"Fantastic." The pirate stared at the door, mentally retracing her path through the abbey. They had taken the direct route from the dining hall, but that wouldn't be the optimal way out. Furthermore, she only knew how to get to the front gate. If she was going to escape, she needed another way out. She could climb the abbey walls without a problem, but crossing the grounds from the building to the walls without being seen was going to be difficult.

"If you're thinking about escaping, you won't be able to figure it out!" Cassandra turned to give Lyn a stare that demanded elaboration. "You think it's easy to get out of here? The sisters have this place locked down tight. You don't get out until they say you can."

Cassandra nodded in acknowledgment and returned to planning her escape. She was a trained killer. She wasn't going to let a group of pacifists prevent her from escaping.

"Hello? Earth to Captain Cassandra?" Lyn waved her hand in front of the pirate's face. "You're not going to be able to get out on your own."

Now that was interesting. Cassandra turned to appraise the woman beside her. There was no way that choice of words had been unintentional. If Lyn knew a way out, it would be to Cassandra's benefit to ascertain how to escape. The argument between Lyn and Sister Jirana had indicated many past misdeeds and punishments; it was entirely possible that Lyn knew a way out. It was also possible that someone with a grudge against her had orchestrated the entire series of events in order to incarcerate her. To figure out which was the truth, she needed to learn what Lyn knew. The question was how she was going to extract the information.

"Who are you?"

Lyn cocked her head to the side and frowned. "Silly Captain Cassandra! You didn't hit your head, did you? I'm Lyn!"

"I know that. I'm curious about how someone like you wound up as a novice in a place like this."

"Okay, I'll show you!" The novice leapt forward, and it took a considerable amount of self-restraint not to reflexively punch her in the throat. Cassandra didn't believe Lyn was attacking her, but remained prepared all the same. Lyn threw her arms around the pirate and dragged her to the ground. So long as Lyn didn't do any more offensive actions, Cassandra would play along.

Neither woman moved. Cassandra wondered what exactly Lyn was doing. Slowly but surely, a pressure grew in her head as if she were developing a migraine. She closed her eyes and shook her head in an effort to dispel the feeling. She was surprised when Lyn whispered, "Don't fight it."

Her first instinct was that she had been poisoned. She hadn't felt any injection, but she didn't rule out that Lyn was a Devil Fruit User of some sort. She tried to extract herself from Lyn's embrace, but the novice was a lot stronger than she looked. "I'm not going to hurt you," Lyn whispered. "I just want to show you, and you need to let me in."

Cassandra decided that it was okay to trust this woman in this case. Worse came to worst, Lyn would assume she had died and leave her body for a moment. She could use that time to retaliate. With that thought in mind, she let the headache come.

A multitude of images flashed in her mind's eye as if she were remembering several previous events. Strangely, the memories were not hers.

_A__ trio of people sat around a table. The two adults were restraining a little girl from running outside and playing in the thunderstorm. Suddenly, a brilliant flash of light brightened the scene. The cracking of wood could be heard, followed by the fall of a multitude of heavy objects. A small object, which turned out to be the little girl, was ejected from the house. Three pained screams cut through the night…  
_

_A small, black-haired girl, clutching a teddy bear and a small box, stared up at the ominous gates, tears leaking freely from her eyes. Weak sunlight filtered through the morning mist, reflecting off of the myriad of puddles resting on the ground. The gates creaked open and an ancient-looking nun slowly walked up, staring down at the inconsolable child…  
_

_A young girl hung upside-down from the rafters of the meal hall by her knees, staring at the commotion below her. Her two pigtails, bound by gravity, drooped downwards, giving her a comical appearance. She quivered with silent laughter as the nuns rushed about, trying to find her…  
_

_Two nuns yelled at a paint-covered girl. No trace of her original skin or clothing colors remained. She had crossed her arms mutinously and set her jaw in a childish pout, glaring to the side. One of the sisters grabbed her arm, but recoiled, staring at her now blue-palmed hand…  
_

_An adolescent girl sprinted through the streets, ducking and weaving with all the skill of a street rat. She ran into a small alleyway that finished with a wooden door. She shouldered the door open and dove inside, kicking it shut behind her. She lay in the middle of the room, breathing hard. She gave a small grin of triumph, which vanished as soon as a screeching voice filled the air…  
_  
Groaning with effort, Cassandra pried Lyn's hand off of her face and threw the woman backwards, scooting as far as she could against the wall. That memory link was a skill unique to the monks and nuns of Alamentia. No killer could possess that skill. This demonstration defused the situation somewhat. While it was impossible for Lyn to be a hired assassin, she could still be responsible for capturing Cassandra. However, it was more plausible that Lyn really was just a religious woman with a penchant for troublemaking. Either way, it meant that Cassandra didn't need to be quite as cautious as she had been previously.

"Can you help me escape?"

Lyn gave a mischievous grin. "Sure I can! I have a few conditions though."

Cassandra had never assumed otherwise. "Name them."

"One, I get to draw you."

Now that was unexpected. "Draw me."

"Uh-huh!" The novice went over to the bookshelf and pushed a few books aside to reach behind them. Cassandra instinctively put her hands to her knife holsters, prepared for any traps that might be sprung. Her reflexes would be able to deal with any projectiles, and she would have her answer about who Lyn truly was. When Lyn jerked her arm around, Cassandra prepared to dodge and strike.

A thin drawer shot out of one of the shelves, nearly decapitating the eccentric novice. She grinned and reached two fingers inside, fishing around with small, sharp movements. After a moment, she withdrew a stick of charcoal and some paper. Cassandra relaxed. It appeared that Lyn had been telling the truth when she said she wanted to draw. She watched as Lyn pulled one of the tomes off of the bookshelf and lugged the enormous volume over to Cassandra. It fell to the floor with a loud _thump_ that echoed around in the small room. Lyn put the paper on the hard cover and began staring intently at Cassandra, her eyes roving back and forth as she analyzed pirate.

"An elaborate setup," Cassandra observed. "You didn't do this on your own."

"Nah, one of the carpenters owed me a favor for when I helped him find his missing dog. I figured I'd be in here more often than not, so why not amuse myself? Yeah, I'm supposed to be reflecting, but that's so boooooring! I've drawn everything in here a hundred times. It's nice to have something new!"

Cassandra looked about for places these hundreds of drawings could be. She doubted they were hidden in the tomes, as any nun could discover Lyn's pastime by accident. A woman who had gone to the trouble of getting a hidden drawer installed in a bookcase wouldn't be so careless. She also doubted Lyn just took them with her when she left. That meant that somehow, the novice was acquiring blank paper to draw on and disposing of these drawings without the nuns knowing. Perhaps Cassandra could use that to her advantage.

"Where do you get new paper?"

"Hmm?" Lyn glanced up from her artwork. "I basically live here, except when I've been on my best behavior for a while. I clean it out, so it's not hard to bring paper in here and hide it."

"What about the finished drawings?"

"Oh, I just burn those."

"You burned them?" Cassandra repeated.

"Yeah, so? I didn't need 'em any more."

It was unfortunate that Lyn wasn't smuggling the paper in using a manner beneficial to Cassandra. For a few minutes, the only sound was of Lyn's charcoal scratching across the paper. Cassandra sat stock still, deep in thought. Her mind was filled with plans of how to escape this room, this city, and this island. She went through every possible scenario for each plan that she could think of. So far, none of them worked for her, always ending with her recarceration or worse. After a while, her mind was suddenly struck with an idea. She contemplated it, rolling it around in her mind for a while to weigh the pros and cons. Finally deciding that this was her best bet at the moment, she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak. "How would you like to become a pirate?"

Lyn froze. "What?"

"I am, as you suspected, a pirate captain. Would you like to join my crew?"

It made sense to Cassandra. If Lyn was part of some grand scheme to capture her, she could definitely use such a deceitful woman on her crew. If Lyn was a mere nun, her memory sharing could certainly be useful. Furthermore, she was physically stronger than Cassandra. She wasn't superhumanly strong, but Cassandra could lift over twice her weight and Lyn had been able to easily retrain her. While the pirate was fairly certain she could beat Lyn in a fight, raw power was useful in a fight.

"Pirates are bad," Lyn said jerkily. "They plunder and pillage and-"

"Not all pirates are so cruel. Some just enjoy being free to do whatever they want. I have no intention of murdering innocent civilians for pleasure or profit. I merely aim to explore the world. Surely you've heard tales of crews that seek merriment in parties, not chaos."

"And your crew is like that?" The novice's unmasked hope was startling. She was either a very good actor or very bad at concealing her emotions. "You just want to have fun without hurting anyone?"

"I assure you that none of my crewmembers are like that." That was technically true. She had no crewmembers at all.

"Then of course I'll join you!" Lyn catapulted herself forward, but Cassandra was prepared this time. She was seized in a fierce hug that drove the wind from her body. She feebly returned the embrace, nodding softly at Lyn's incoherent stream of babbled gratitude. When she was finally released, Cassandra was able to straight her black overshirt and adjust her cowboy hat. The novice had no such care for her appearance. "So, Captain Cassandra, what's the plan?"

That appellation seemed overly cumbersome. "Just Captain will do, and you're the one with the method of escape that you never revealed."

"Oh right!" The novice sprang over to the hidden drawer and picked up a thin metal object. "Tada! Basic lockpicking!"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "A metal spike."

"Sure, it doesn't look like much, but nuns have been using the same locks that this abbey was built with," Lyn explained, shaking the spike at her. "Very, very simple locks."

This suited Cassandra's tastes. She was able to leave whenever she felt like it. She frowned as she realized Lyn was jiggling the spike in the keyhole already. "Wait a moment. If we break out now, they'll catch us. We've got to wait until they're asleep. And what's with that I've-never-thought-of-that expression?"

Lyn gave a radiant smile filled with so much unbridled joy that Cassandra almost felt guilty for doubting her. Almost. "Foresight is overrated, you know!"

"Right." Cassandra was beginning to wonder about the wisdom of making her previous decision. "In any case, we should prepare to leave at night." She made her way to the middle of the room and examined the candle carefully. A small smirk spread across her face as she eyed the wax column.

"What is it?" Lyn inquired, coming over to look.

Postponing her explanation, Cassandra retrieved one of the spare candles from the corner of the room and lit it using the candle in the middle. She took care to extinguish the previous one so as not to complicate her current predicament and placed the new candle on the stand.

"What're you doing?"

"Give me the spike," Cassandra ordered, trailing her finger down the candle as she counted the marks. She stabbed the fourteenth mark and left the spike embedded there, satisfied with her work. "In fourteen hours, the spike will fall. That's when we escape."

"Wow! You're a genius!"

The pirate captain couldn't help but smile at Lyn's open admiration. "This doesn't prove it either way. Regardless, if you're to be on my crew, I should get to know you. Tell me about yourself, Lyn Mojigata."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Exactly fourteen hours later, the spike fell and clattered to the floor. Cassandra, who had been in a state of partial sleep, pushed her hat out from in front of her eyes and looked up. Lyn was sprawled across the rush mats, snoring softly. Cassandra took several deep breaths, adrenaline beginning to course through her body. She crawled over to the sleeping woman and shook her shoulder. "Lyn…"

"I'll save you from the dragon as soon as this waffle iron warms up…" Lyn mumbled, rolling away from Cassandra.

The pirate captain raised an eyebrow, wondering what exactly her new crewmember was dreaming of. Shaking her head, she returned to the task at hand. "Lyn, wake up"

"Huh?" Lyn groaned sleepily, opening her eyes slightly. "Oozat?"

"Your captain. Now get up and show me the way out."

Lyn waved her hand dismissively and closed her eyes. A few seconds later, she sat bolt upright, throwing Cassandra to the floor. "We're l-mmph!"

"Not so loud," Cassandra hissed, her hand pressed tightly over Lyn's mouth. "Now, will you be quiet?"

Lyn nodded her head. The pirate captain was about to withdraw her hand when she felt a warm, wet sensation on her palm. Realizing that Lyn was licking her hand, she shot backwards, wiping her hand on her pants.

"Sorry," Lyn chirped, grinning in a way that revealed that she actually wasn't sorry at all.

Cassandra chose to ignore her in favor of escaping. She took the spike and inserted it into the keyhole. After wiggling it around a bit, she found the bolt and pushed upwards, hard. The lock unlocked with a soft _click_, and the door swung open. Cassandra peeked outside and sniffed the air, making sure that there were no people in the cavernous hallways. Nobody was. Cassandra crept out, gesturing for Lyn to follow. The woman tried to silently follow Cassandra, but it seemed like she did everything loudly. She was humming incessantly under her breath, and her footfalls echoed throughout the empty corridors, causing Cassandra to wince with every step.

"Can you walk more quietly?" Cassandra breathed.

Lyn had the good manner to try to look sheepish. "Trying." Indeed, her footsteps were gradually softening, but were still too loud for Cassandra's liking. They made their way through the deserted abbey, pausing at every little sound. Cassandra felt like something was off, but couldn't quite place it. She simply felt the need to make sure they weren't being detected. And so, at every door, she would press her ear against the wood and make sure there was no activity or irregular breathing. This process nearly doubled the time needed to exit the enormous building, but neither woman complained.

Eventually, they made it outside the double doors and onto the grounds. Pale moonlight brightened the scene, casting dark shadows everywhere and sending Cassandra's paranoia into overdrive. She would have preferred a moonless night; her night vision would be useful in that case. She clung to the shadows while checking each one to make sure nobody was hiding there. About halfway there, Cassandra sensed that Lyn was growing restless. She then decided to check every _other_ shadow, just to speed things up a bit.

After taking far too long to cross the courtyard, they finally made it to the gigantic gates. Cassandra stared upwards, trying to think of how to get past them without making too much noise. But before she could think too deeply, Lyn was crouching in front of the gates, her fingers interlaced and held out, forming a step. The pirate captain nodded and stepped back a few paces. Lyn braced herself and silently gave a signal to go. Cassandra took a short running start and stepped hard on Lyn's hands. The new pirate heaved, boosting Cassandra high enough that the pirate captain could grab onto the top and pull herself up.

Cassandra looked down, offering her hand. Lyn, too, backed up, preparing herself for the jump. She exhaled and ran hard, covering the distance alarmingly quickly. She leapt into the air and grabbed onto a chink in the gate, using it to propel herself upwards. She braced against the wall and jumped off, extending her hand. Cassandra leaned down a bit and grabbed the woman's wrist, pulling with all of her might. Lyn swung above Cassandra's head, still clutching the pirate's wrist tenaciously. Cassandra's eyes widened as she realized what would happen.

Sure enough, she was yanked off the gate and fell towards the ground. She pulled her arm in and twisted, positioning herself beneath the other woman. They landed with a muted _thud _and lay on the dusty road, temporarily stunned. Lyn got up and dusted herself off, looking around. Cassandra pushed herself to her feet, feeling the pain from the fall fade away. Lyn turned to her and flashed a thankful grin.

"Now it's my turn."

Grabbing Cassandra's wrist again, she began running through the city. Cassandra was hard pressed to keep up, but she tried her best. Lyn dragged her through the complex network of streets, alleyways, and boulevards, taking paths that Cassandra wouldn't have seen on first glance. She did take a wrong turn once or twice, but Cassandra forgave her, as the pair was making remarkable progress through the sleeping city. Lyn also stopped quickly inside a door at the end of one of the alleys, emerging a moment later with a small backpack and a long object strapped to her waist. Cassandra looked closer and realized, with some surprise, that it was a sword of some sort with an incredibly ornate handle.

"Gift from a merchant I told you about," Lyn explained, following her captain's gaze. "Said a young girl should be able to take care of herself. C'mon, the docks are this way."

"My ship's not at the docks," Cassandra told her, still curious as to why a nun-in-training had possession of a sword in the first pace. "I'm a pirate. There's no way I would dock in such a conspicuous place."

The novice stared at her, amazement evident in her eyes. "Wow! You really think things through, don't you?"

The pirate captain rolled her eyes and sighed deeply as they resumed their flight. "I came in through this big set of gates over in that general direction."

"Oh, you docked over by the Ville?"

"The what?"

"The Ville," Lyn repeated. "You know, where the crooks and the gangsters live. Small shacks that they think the sisters don't check?"

_Perhaps I should have started my search there_. "Yes."

"Okay, This is good." Lyn nodded to herself. "'S far as the night guards know, I'm still a novice. They'll let me through."

"I thought the nuns guarded that gate."

Lyn's grin widened. "They do. During the day. The guards are there during the night. So they'll let me through."

Sure enough, when the pair reached the giant entrance to the city, the guards took one glance at Lyn and Cassandra before opening the gate just a crack so they could slip through. Cassandra quickly went over to the rock off the side of the road and confirmed that her weapons had not been taken. She strapped them on, relishing their comforting weight on her hips. Lyn raised her eyebrows at the pistols, but didn't voice any opinions she might have about such tools of killing. They ran through the desolate Ville, scarcely glancing at the gaunt faces of those still awake at this hour. They reached the _Howling Knave_ and climbed aboard, collapsing on the deck with relief.

"We made it," Lyn panted.

"Not quite, dear." They both spun around to look at the sister exiting Cassandra's room, a disapproving frown on her face.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed it and tune in next time!


	3. First Come, First Served

What will happen to our protagonist and her new recruit? Continue reading and find out?

* * *

Cassandra tensed and turned around. "Who are you and why are you on my ship?"

"My name is-"

"Listen," Cassandra interrupted, "that was more rhetorical than actual curiosity. Now get off of my ship."

The sister's young face reddened with anger. "How dare you! I'll have you know…"

Cassandra tuned out the nun's rant completely. If the religious woman wanted to incapacitate Cassandra or Lyn, she would have done that already. Cassandra pointed at Lyn to attract the novice's attention, then at the furled sails of the foremast. Lyn took the hint and scampered up the rigging. After making sure the sister wasn't moving, Cassandra began turning the anchor winch. The winds were strong enough that the _Howling Knave_ should be able to sail away from the island. Upon hearing the first set of sails snap open and Lyn land on the forecastle deck, Cassandra gestured for both of them to climb the main mast and unfurl those sails as well.

"Shouldn't we do something about her?" Lyn asked.

"She has already gone to alert the others that we're here. Just finish with this then dump her on the beach. If we're lucky, we'll be long gone before she returns with reinforcements."

"And if we're unlucky?"

Cassandra shrugged. "We'll scare them off. Worst case scenario, we defend ourselves until we're far enough away that they can't do anything about us." She didn't miss Lyn's gaze going to her pistols. "I won't kill any of them, I promise."

"Okay!" Lyn said brightly as she finished undoing the ropes restraining the sails. The novice let out a whoop of delight as she leapt off the yard and slid down the falling fabric. Cassandra elected to safely glide down a rope to the main deck. Lyn was already carrying the nun towards the bow, running cheerfully along the railings. The sister continued to rant and rave, but made no physical effort to stop the woman carrying her. Lyn slipped on the thin rail in a way that could have been construed as accidental, but Cassandra wasn't worried. Sure enough, the novice grabbed onto the rail with one hand and lowered the sister as far as she could go with the other. With a joyful farewell, she dropped the sister into the shallow waters below and flipped back onto the main deck. "Sister Sofia overboard, Captain!"

"I can see that. Get to the bow and tell me if there are people coming."

"Okay!" Lyn paused for a moment, swiveling on the ball of her foot as she looked towards both ends of the ship. "Which way is the bow?"

Cassandra pressed her lips firmly together. It seemed almost impossible for Lyn to be a deceiver trying to lure her into a trap. She wouldn't be certain until they left Alamentia, but she was beginning to accept that Lyn really was a childlike novice who wanted to be free. To be sure, she'd make sure that Lyn didn't communicate with anyone outside of her supervision for a while, but if the artist was to be a crewmember of hers, Cassandra would have to start treating her like one besides simply giving her orders. "That would be the front."

"No problemo!" The novice ran to the bow and leaned over the railing. "There are people coming!"

The pirate captain wasn't surprised. "Can you be more specific?"

"Some sisters and lots of handymen!" Cassandra lashed the wheel in place and jogged over to the forecastle deck. Lyn was already standing on figurehead, a screaming wooden man chained to the keel, and brandishing her rapier in the air. "Avast, landlubbers! Turn 'round and scurry back to those mis'rable 'oles you call homes afore I gut ye like fish and-"

"Lyn, that isn't how pirates talk."

The novice froze, turning only her head to look at her captain. "Are you sure?"

"That isn't how most pirates talk," Cassandra amended. She pulled Lyn off the railing and surveyed the group sent to intercept her. None of them looked particularly dangerous, but appearances could be deceiving. She drew her pistols and pointed them at the approaching figures. "Listen well! I have no quarrel with you or your people. I have committed no crimes on this island; I simply wish to depart in peace."

"You were not released from your chambers!" a sister shouted back. "Furthermore, return Novice Mojigata at once!"

"'Return' would imply that I took her. I have done nothing of the sort. She came of her own free will."

"Lies!" The sisters stopped just short of the surf, letting the handymen continue to march into the water. "You corrupted her mind with your poisonous lies. You have no place on this island, and she has no place with you!"

Cassandra drew her pistols in the blink of an eye and fired off two warning shots, giving the workmen pause. "You know her better than I do. She has been trying to be her own woman instead of adhering to your rigid ideals. I simply offer her a way to experience life as she desires; these are not lies. I did not inveigle her or threaten her. If she wishes to be free with me, that is her choice and you should respect it."

The sister spluttered angrily, stepping backwards to avoid the tide. A much more ancient sister than the first came forward. "You offer freedom, but intend to rule and command her. This is not freedom. We know what is good for the both of you far better than you do. I am sorry, but for your sakes, you must both remain here."

"I think not. I do not intend to-" Cassandra instinctively fired her pistols as her hands were suddenly yanked above her head. The invisible force vanished just as suddenly as it had arrived. A nun near the side of the group fell, blood leaking from beneath her hair. For a moment, there was silence. Everybody stared at the fallen sister. Cassandra's keen eyes narrowed, focusing as hard as she could at the woman and her injury.

"She's-" Lyn began, staring in shock.

"Not dead." Cassandra was more concerned with the rapidly growing anger of the workmen. "I have been using pistols since I could hold them. I can pick any leg off a fly you want. I promise you that I did not kill her. The bullet only clipped the side of her head. She should be preparing to restrain me at any moment."

Lyn still looked unsure. "You promise?"

"Put your palm below your chin and don't move." Cassandra threw her hand out and pulled the trigger. Lyn couldn't help but recoil and squeeze her eyes shut. When she opened them again, she gaped in amazement at the three hairs resting on her palm. "Now, we aren't far enough away to-"

Cassandra gripped the handles of her guns as one of the sister's spirits tried to knock them from her hands. As confident as she was in her marksmanship, it would be exceedingly difficult to aim for nonlethal wounds if these invisible women continued to interfere. She holstered her weapons and threw her boot out, catching her unseen opponent by surprise. She turned on her heel and took a running jump over the railing separating the forecastle deck from the main deck. She rolled as she impacted the wooden boards and ran for the galley. Before she could reach the door, one of the sisters caught her foot and sent her crashing to the floor. "Lyn, I could use some help!"

"Kinda busy!" Cassandra twisted about to see that the handymen that the nuns were attempting to climb over the forecastle rails. Lyn was dancing about with her rapier in one hand and a long loop of beads in the other. "Put one foot on this ship and you'll regret it!"

The pirate captain braced herself against the floor and launched herself towards the galley. If she could just use the flour to detect the spirit attacking her, she would have a decent chance at winning. She threw open the door and tried to make for the pantry, but was promptly tripped again. She slammed into the mizzenmast and rebounded painfully against the table. Gathering her wits about her, she dodged where she thought the spirit would be and managed to make it to the pantry doors. She knew she only had a few seconds to find any sort of powder before the spirit returned.

Despite her foreknowledge that she would be attacked, she wasn't entirely prepared for when her feet were yanked out from beneath her. She catapulting forward and slammed her head into the shelves as she fell, spices and sauces raining down upon her. She shook her head in an attempt to rid it of the dazed fog slowing her thoughts. She felt herself being dragged backwards, her face scraping against the floor. She winced as intense pain shot through her nose. She put a hand to her face, then licked her fingers to confirm her suspicion.

"Blood," she muttered. The fuzziness in her head had fully dissipated by the time she was dragged onto the main deck. She kicked out, feeling satisfaction as her foot connected with something solid. She glanced towards the railings to see if any of the men had managed to board. The last thing she needed was to deal with the entire group single-handedly.

To her surprise, Lyn was handling herself quite well. Although she was yelling like a maniac, she was successfully repelling the workers. She looped her beads over a man's head and slammed it against the railing, causing the man to the man to tumble to the waves below. She jumped over a hammer that had been swung at her knees and smashed the butt of her rapier into the man's head. A forceful kick sent him flying from the ship. Gasping for breath, she spun around to find another assailant. Her bright blue eyes widened as she saw her captain. "Shit! You okay, Captain?"

Cassandra realized how she must appear. Much of her body was covered in red, though only a small fraction of it was actually blood. "It's only sauce. Keep up the good work"

She put a finger to her nose and blew out a stream of blood as she quickly ran through her remaining options. The _Howling Knave_ was drifting farther and farther out to sea. All she needed to do was forcefully repel the sisters and the two pirates would be safe. From what Lyn had told her in their cell, the spirits could not easily be harmed. Knives and bullets were no more effective than punches and kicks. She needed some force far larger than she could muster. She allowed a small smile to creep across her lips as she realized an extremely probable solution.

She was dragged to the deck again, but this time she stayed here. She flung her hand to the side, feeling around for the iron circle on the floor. Grabbing it, she pulled hard, opening up the hatch leading belowdecks. She rolled to the side and grabbed the edge, propelling herself into the darkness below. She bounced down the spiral stairwell and landed in a crouching position, her eyes skimming through the darkness. Having not had time to accustom herself to this part of the ship, she didn't exactly know where everything was. She fumbled around for the lamp and, finding it, twisted the knob to flood the room with light.

The room was spotless and white, as it was supposed to be. She had landed in the ship's medical ward, though she hadn't found much use for it yet. Four white-sheeted beds clustered the room, a pair resting against both the starboard and port walls. Counters ran along the outer walls, with cabinets both above and below them. A door sat at each end of the ward, leading out into a hallway that surrounded the room and kept any seawater from contaminating the ward.

She ran to the stern end of the room, jumping on a few of the beds to avoid the main mast directly in the center. She slammed open the door and caught the edge of the doorway to slingshot herself to the side of the ship. Ignoring the hallway with cannons to one side, she kicked open the door that lead to the rear cargo hold. Crates, barrels, and other containers filled the room, but she knew exactly what she was looking for. Shaking off the invisible nun trying to restrain her, she sprang over to one of the barrels of gunpowder near the wall. She pried off the top and grabbed handfuls, shoving it into her pockets. After filling them, she grabbed one last handful in each hand and knocked the top back on, sealing it with a swift axe kick.

She made her way back to the main deck, still eluding her ethereal attackers. Lyn was still managing to keep the men away, though her weariness was evident. Her hands dropped to her sides after each strike, and her breathing was labored. Cassandra was struck from all sides at once, sending her crashing into the mast. She threw out her hands, the gunpowder flying through the air. The gunpowder was stopped in three different places, showing where the spirits were. Cassandra emptied her pockets, revealing one last nun who had avoided her initial attack. With her targets in her sight, she brought out the lighter she had grabbed from one of the medical cabinets and struck a spark.

A series of explosions echoed from the ship as the gunpowder ignited. Cassandra was hurled onto her back, a fiery feeling covering her face and body.

"You okay, Captain?" Lyn shouted, sounding like she was shouting while underwater.

Cassandra could only muster the energy to put her hands to her face. She felt the burns begin to sting and quickly concentrated on the pain, willing it to go away. After a moment, she felt around for the railing. Grabbing onto it, she pulled herself into a sitting position and looked around. Lyn was sitting against the opposite railing, breathing heavily. The men were gone, and the island was a good distance away. Brushing cracked skin off of her face, Cassandra frowned at her new crewmember. "You look tired."

"It's four in the morning. Of course I'm tired." Lyn gave a frown of her own. "You look just fine."

The pirate captain looked down at herself. Her clothes were charred and were falling apart in most places, but still hung on her body. Her white cowboy hat, which was attached to a string and looped around her neck, was unharmed. Her body had sheltered it from the explosions. Her skin was covered in soot, spices, and sauce, but she wasn't wounded anywhere. She only shrugged. "I've been fighting forever. I know how to take a hit."

"That's awesome!" Lyn giggled gaily as she leaned her head back. "Now that I'm officially a fugitive and a pirate, what position do I hold aboard your ship?"

"Well, I did lie to you about one thing." The novice cocked her head to the side in confusion. "I don't exactly have a crew. You're the first one, actually."

Lyn simply stared at her, processing the implications of her words. Cassandra prepared to reach for her pistols, hoping she hadn't made a mistake in revealing she was alone. She was astonished when Lyn gave the brightest smile she had ever seen and scrambled across the deck. The artist grabbed her in a tight embrace and shook her from side to side. "That's awesome! You're so cool! I'm so glad I'm the first! We're gonna have so much fun together! We'll get a kickass crew and see the entire world! Hell yeah!"

Cassandra couldn't help but chuckle. Lyn truly was a piece of work. "Indeed we will. As for your previous question, I suppose it's first come, first served. Welcome to the Black Glove Pirates, first mate."

* * *

Can you believe it? They're alive and free without having to kill anybody. Until next time!


	4. The Charred Island

Welcome to the fourth installment of the Black Glove Pirates. What adventures lie before our two pirates?

* * *

Cassandra and Lyn were jolted awake as the _Howling Knave_ ran directly into the island, causing both of them to fall over. Cassandra nursed her head as she sat up, groaning with irritation. She had spent a day with her new first mate and had come to the conclusion that Lyn was either exactly who she said she was or the best actress the world had ever seen. While Cassandra wouldn't disregard the notion that she was being led into a trap, she highly doubted anyone could act so genuinely all the time. Lyn was more open with her emotions than anyone Cassandra had ever met. She truly was a remarkable woman.

That being said, Lyn could never be called responsible.

The pirate captain sleepily shuffled outside to find Lyn sprawled out on the main deck. Upon hearing Cassandra clear her throat, the first mate shot to her feet and spun about. "We hit land, Captain!"

"I'm aware. What I'm wondering is why I am just now learning that we were approaching an island."

"It's not my fault! It snuck up on me!"

Cassandra blinked as her mind tried to process the novice's words. "An island snuck up on you."

"Yeah! It used the dark of night! It's a ninja island!"

"You were supposed to be watching for ships or islands, regardless of how stealthy they are."

The first mate squirmed guiltily as her eyes fell to the ground. "I'm sorry, Captain. At least _Knave_ isn't hurt, right? We were going pretty slowly."

Cassandra remembered how mild the wakening jolt had been. It did seem possible that her ship had simply slid on land without taking any damage. "This is the _Howling Knave_ or the _Knave_ for short. I'll forgive you this time. Don't let it happen again. Come, get ready to investigate the area."

Lyn's face lit up with the most radiant smile Cassandra had ever seen. "Yes ma'am, Captain ma'am!"

"You really don't have to be so formal. I am your superior officer, but you don't have to call me Captain. Cassandra will do just fine."

"Nuh-uh! You're my captain, so I'm calling you Captain! Cassandra's your last name, so I'll just call you that when I'm mad at you."

Cassandra frowned slightly as Lyn sprang from the main deck to the walkway Cassandra was standing on and dashed inside. Shaking her head in amazement, she followed her crewmember into their quarters. Although there were other places Lyn could sleep, the novice had insisted on sharing a room. Cassandra didn't particularly care; she didn't need special treatment just because she was captain. There was a bed on either side of the room anyway, so there was no reason to deny Lyn what she wanted.

The room was already beginning to show the difference in cleanliness between the two women. While Cassandra's side bore some semblance to order, Lyn's half was utter chaos. Cassandra went to the washroom at the rear of the room, only pausing when she saw papers on Lyn's wall that hadn't been there when she had gone to bed. "What are those?"

Lyn was only too happy to explain. "These are some of the kickass people from Alamentia! This is the guard who let me leave the abbey at night because I always shared donuts with him when I got back. This is the merchant who let me hang around his stall and meet all the awesome people in the market. This is the bouncer that punched out the guy who had been following me and got me that unofficial job at the bar. This one is the thief who taught me freerunning. This one…"

Cassandra paid half-attention to the novice's chattering. To her, the past was the past. It didn't matter if she missed her friends; she would never be able to see them again, so what did it matter? There was no use torturing herself by wishing for what could not be. She paused as she pulled on her left black glove and stared at it. She had said her crew was called the Black Glove Pirates. A small smirk spread across her face. Perhaps her past did not have to stay as buried as she had thought.

"Lyn." The first mate immediately ceased her reminiscing and poked her head around the mizzenmast. She was able to catch the glove thrown in her direction, which pleased Cassandra. Sharp reflexes were always good. "We're the Black Glove Pirates."

The novice stared at the glove for a moment before smiling brightly. "Yeah, that's awesome! A crew theme, nice! We should make everyone who joins wear one!"

"Sounds good. Are you ready to go?"

"Yup!" Having escaped Alamentia with only her rapier, her prayer beads, some art supplies, and the clothes on her back, Lyn had had to borrow Cassandra's clothing. Although the two women were approximately the same size, Lyn was much fuller in the hips and chest than her captain. A shirt that looked normal on Cassandra appeared quite suggestive on Lyn. "Why do you dress like a cowgirl, anyway?"

"A woman with two unconcealed pistols is a criminal. A cowgirl with two unconcealed pistols is a woman in costume. Come."

She only managed to set one foot outside before she was tackled from behind and swept into a bridal position. Lyn leapt clear off the ship, whooping gaily as they soared through the air. She rolled the instant she hit the sands, taking care not to jostle her passenger as she sprang to her feet. Her chest heaved with exhilaration as she stared about. "Well, that was fun!"

"Put. Me. Down."

"You got it!" To her credit, Lyn didn't just drop her to the beach, instead making sure she could stand on her own. Cassandra straightened her shirt and cowboy hat. She did admit that jumping down had been much faster than climbing. She couldn't prevent the barest of smiles from gracing her lips before Lyn saw. The novice threw her hands up and ran victoriously around her captain. Cassandra allowed her to have her fun and focused on her environment. She gave a slight frown as she looked around. She put her hand on Lyn's shoulder, halting the woman in her tracks.

"What is it, Captain?"

"Something's not right." This land felt wrong. The air was too still. The trees at the border of the beach were but skeletons. Pushing aside her crewmember, she slowly advanced across the sands. She couldn't see enough, hear enough, feel enough. She needed to know more.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She remembered the thrill of riding the paper thin edge between life and death. She remembered her love of living, her fear of dying. Energy flooded through her body, and her heartbeat sped up. Her muscles ached to fight, to flee, to move. Her naturally keen senses magnified tenfold. Opening her eyes, she truly sensed the island for the first time. "Voluntas Carnae."

The stench of rot filled her nose. Not the slightest breath of wind brushed her skin. The air tasted vile on her tongue. The only heartbeats she could hear were hers and Lyn's. There wasn't a trace of movement in the dead forest.

Cassandra exhaled deeply and released the boost to her system. Weariness seeped through her body, but she disregarded it. She had other matters to be concerned about.

"What's wrong?" Lyn asked, unable to keep the fear from her voice.

"Nothing is alive here, not even birds or rats. I can't speak for the entire island, but we are the only living beings in the area. I must investigate further. Stay with the ship."

"Uh-uh! No way! I'm coming with you."

The pirate captain was in no mood to babysit anyone. "You are not coming. Whatever robbed the land of every creature down to the tiniest mouse is dangerous. It could be a plague or a poison. I specialize in neither. I don't want you contracting an ailment I cannot cure."

Lyn moved closer. "And I don't want you to die too!"

"I wasn't always a pirate captain. Before, I had many enemies who wanted to me dead. I developed a certain immunity to toxins and pathogens."

"That's crazy. Who'd want you dead?"

"I killed a lot of people," she said absently. She glanced over as her first mate froze in place. "Guns are made for killing. I carry them for a reason. If that makes you uncomfortable, I recommend you stay with the ship."

"No. I'm staying with you."

Cassandra gave the ghost of a smile at how quickly and firmly the novice responded. "I will not broadcast our presence, so we won't be using torches or lanterns. Hold my hand. Follow directly behind me."

Lyn instantly grabbed her hand, her fingers intertwining with Cassandra's. The two women made their way from the beach to the dead jungle. They pushed through the brittle undergrowth, their footsteps crunching loudly. The utter absence of life and the stillness of the air gave their surroundings a chilling atmosphere. They crept through until they found a trail choked with dead weeds. Cassandra picked away dry leaves until she could see the path. Any footprints had long eroded, but she could tell the general direction the trail took. She squeezed Lyn's hand as she followed the path away from the ocean.

She halted once more when the woods gave way to an irregular cluster of rocks. She examined one rock carefully, realizing that it was in fact part of a ruined wall. Scanning the area, she realized that what she was actually staring at was the ruins of a village. The dry mortar beneath her fingers indicated that the building had not stood for some time. She moved around the broken wall, only to find a new curiosity.

A skeleton lay in the ruins, broken and charred. Other skeletons could be seen here and there. She crouched by the bones, needing to know what had killed the person and how long ago. The questions were easily answered; the skull was pulverized and no flesh clung to the bones. The remains of clothing flaked away beneath her fingers. She leaned in further, staring at a peculiarity on one of the armbones. It had been broken in half, but what concerned Cassandra was the marking on the intact part. She rubbed it with her hand to make sure it wasn't soot or a trick of the light, feeling the grooves beneath her skin.

There were bitemarks on the bone.

Her head snapped up as she realized the implications. She strained her hearing to its limit, knowing exactly what she was looking for. First heartbeat, hers. Second heartbeat, Lyn's. Third heartbeat, loud and strong. Fourth heartbeat, slow and steady. They were not alone.

"Say here," she whispered.

"What? No!"

"Keep your voice down. There are other things here. They aren't moving, which means they probably don't know we're here. I need to find them before they find us. To do that, I need to go alone."

"Captain-"

"Lyn, I'll be back. I promise. Stay here and hide. Do not make a sound."

With that, she set off down the street. The rubble crunched below her boots as she slowly advanced. Any time she thought her footstep was too loud, she paused and checked for a change in her targets' heartrates. They were in the same location, which made things slightly easier for her. She was fairly certain that one was keeping watch while the other slept. That meant she had one true target to deal with. As she passed the wreckages of houses and desiccated trees, she mentally evaluated the ruins as possible hiding places if she were detected. The last thing she needed was to be caught out in the open.

She stopped as she felt a slight pressure on her feet. She saw that a tripwire had been spread between a broken wall and a charred lamppost. She cautiously retreated and leaned in to get a better look at the trap. She was clearly dealing with survivors of this carnage. She carefully stepped over the wire and directly onto a second wire. She winced, internally reprimanding herself for underestimating her enemies.

A loud clanging reverberated through the still town. A bestial roar followed immediately after, then the sounds of wood breaking and stone shattering. She knew without having to check that the one on watch was heading directly towards her. Their positions had just reversed. She was no longer the hunter. She was the prey.

She immediately bolted off to the side, trying to get away. Her pursuer was fast, much faster than she was. Furthermore, it possessed the strength to plow right through everything in its path, indicating it was something she did not want to directly confront. She was running out of time. She needed to hide.

It was just her luck that she ran directly into a clearing. She needed to find someplace to conceal herself, but she had precious few options given the time she had left. She vaulted over a fallen column and hid beneath it. She tried to slow her breathing and heartrate. She needed to minimize any sound she made. A pistol would help, but if she didn't kill whatever was chasing her, she would be in trouble.

Her hunter crashed into the clearing and slid to a stop. Its head moved back and forth in short jerks as it searched for her. She froze as its gaze passed directly over her hiding place, not even daring to breathe. Growling angrily, it bounded away on all fours. Cassandra waited for a few moments, then breathed a sigh of relief. She rolled out from beneath the column and dusted herself off. That had been close. She closed her eyes to figure out where the beast was going.

Her heart dropped as she realized it was heading directly towards the entrance of the village, directly towards Lyn. She was in no mood to be losing her first crewmember. Gritting her teeth, she fired her pistol into the air twice. The beast reversed direction instantly, charging back towards her. She ducked behind a wall, wanting to get the drop on it despite its knowledge of her general position.

It landed in the clearing again, cracking the street beneath its weight. It gave a roar so loud that Cassandra was forced to cover her sensitive ears in pain. She wasn't ready for the large explosion that rocked the area. The wall she was hiding behind was destroyed, stone chunks slamming her to the ground. She groaned as she shook her head to clear it. If her pursuer had stepped on a land mine, that was its loss. It was a moment before she was able to push herself up and take bearing of her situation.

That was when she realized that her pursuer was still alive.

Her face was driven into the rubble with painful force. She tried to struggle, but she was no match for a beast that could break through stone without slowing. Its claws dug painfully in her scalp as it leaned in. Its hot breath washed over her ear. The last thing she expected it to do was talk. "Fuckin' stupid or fuckin' brave, aren'tcha?"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Lyn was scared out of her mind. She trembled as she huddled behind the remains of a wall. She didn't know what to do. Her breath came in short gasps, and the only thing she could hear was her own heart. She grasped her rapier in one hand as she thumbed through her prayer beads. She didn't know what to do. She squeezed her eyes shut as she pressed her glove, Captain's glove, to her lips. She had to be brave. She had to be strong.

She didn't know what to do.

Two gunshots caused her to snap her head around, eyes wide with fright. That had to be Captain. Did that mean she needed help? No, that couldn't be. Captain could handle herself. She said she was good at staying alive. What did she need Lyn for?

A loud explosion followed, and Lyn pressed herself even more firmly against the wall. She knew that Captain could handle herself, but surely she wouldn't refuse help, right? Sure, she could shoot hairs off Lyn's head and Lyn was no swordmaster, but surely she would appreciate help. Summoning every fiber of courage in her body, she detached herself from the wall and crept into the ruined village. It didn't matter how dark it was. She had to go to her captain's side.

"You can do this," she whispered to herself. "You're a pirate. Captain chose you for a reason. She could have just ditched you when she left, but she's not like that. She knows you're worthy of being on her crew. You can do this."

"What can you do?"

Her scream was the loudest she had ever given in her entire life. She spun around, pointing her rapier at every shadow she could see. "W-who's there? Show yourself?"

"I really do apologize. I didn't mean to scare you." A short, portly man slowly walked out from behind a wrecked building. His dark skin and clothes enabled him to easily blend into the shadows. The moonlight reflecting off of his glasses completely obscured his eyes. His hands were held up in front of him to show he was unarmed, but Lyn knew that didn't mean he wouldn't hurt her. Without hesitating, she aimed her rapier at his throat. She couldn't keep the point from shaking ever so slightly and hoped he couldn't see it.

"Who are you?" she asked more firmly.

"I am Alexander-"

"What are you doing here? What's going on?"

"Easy now," he said gently. "I am sorry that I frightened you. I sincerely mean you no harm, though if you wish to keep pointing your sword at me, by all means continue to do so. I'll stay over here, and I won't make any sudden moves. Is that all right?"

More gunshots and another explosion echoed through the streets. "You don't mean to hurt me? Then why's my captain fighting for her life?"

Alexander gave a small grin. "Ah, well, let's just say my companion is not as receptive to new people as I am. We don't get many visitors here, and the ones that do come tend not to be amiable."

Lyn wanted him to elaborate, but more pressing questions came to mind. "Were you following me? How did you know where I was?"

"I set up a trap to alert us if we had unwelcome visitors. As it came from near the library, it was pretty safe to assume whoever was here had come from this entrance. I decided to investigate and saw you walking along. I truly didn't mean to startle you."

She stared at him, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. Although her swordpoint wavered, it never lowered. There were a few things that didn't make sense to her. "Why are you wearing a suit?"

"Simply because my world nearly ended doesn't mean I need to dress sloppily."

She stared at him for a while, but he was clearly waiting for her to continue. The occasional burst of gunfire and burst of flame did little to soothe her nerves. She adjusted her grip on her rapier, trying to decide whether to trust Alexander or not. He looked genuinely harmless, though Lyn knew that that didn't mean anything. Still, this man looked honest enough. She flourished her sword once before sheathing it and wrapping her prayer beads around the scabbard. "You're a little funny, aren't you?"

Alexander laughed heartily. "And why do you say that?"

"Well, I don't know why you'd want to wear a suit in a place like this. Nobody's gonna to scold you for not dressing up."

"On the contrary, my dear. I have every reason to dress like this. This is, after all, the place where my friends and family lie. I wouldn't dare show them any disrespect."

"So you… you're from here? What happened?"

"This? This was the result of a massacre, a vicious and unwarranted bloodbath against an innocent people."

"Was it pirates? Not all of-"

He gave another round of laughter so loud that Lyn grew mildly concerned. "Was this pirates? No! No, I should say not. Pirates didn't destroy this town; pirates built it."

Lyn cocked her head to the side. "Wait, what?"

"Again, the reason I spoke up earlier is that you said you were a pirate. Pirates were the life of this town. Almost every person here was either a pirate or the descendant of one. No, this was by Marines."

"Marines?" She didn't understand. "But they protect law and order."

"Indeed they do. However, there are some Marines who are overzealous in their desire to establish that so-called 'justice and order.' This is one example."

"What happened?"

Alexander paused for a moment. "It's a long story."

"I'd like to hear it."

An explosion drowned out his initial response, and he gave a small grin. "Aren't you worried about your captain?"

More gunshots. "Aren't you worried about your companion?"

He shook his head, and his grin widened. "Fair enough."

_A group of children, some older than others, were playing ball in the middle of the street. They were all laughing and having fun in the bright summer sunlight. The streets were not overly crowded, but people were going back and forth to their destinations. Some of the passersby stopped and watched the young boys and girls frolicking around without a care in the world. The sea sparkled in the distance, reflecting the cloudless sky in its mirror-like calm waters._

_One of the boys accidentally threw the ball too far and ran after it. It rolled off of the street and down a small hill with the boy chasing merrily after it. The ball rolled to a stop, and the boy halted before it, putting his hands on his knees and panting heavily. He suddenly realized that there was another pair of feet directly behind the ball and ominous shadows being cast._

_The boy looked up into the shadowed face looming above him. The glint of swords and guns was unmistakable, and the tall men looked prepared to use them them. The man in front looked down at the boy menacingly, who stared right back. The skull and crossbones of the Jolly Roger was plainly evident on all of the looming shapes present, along with various other nefarious-looking tattoos. The lead man picked up the ball and held it up to the sunlight, examining it carefully. He opened his mouth, showing his slightly yellow teeth, and his followers waited for his word._

_"Can we play too?" the man asked jovially. The men all laughed and applauded, smiles breaking out all around. The boy grinned broadly and turned around, gesturing for the men to follow him. He ran back up the hill to his teammates, who cheered at the prospect of having more people playing with them. The watching adults watched on with grins, completely unafraid of the seafarers. Pirates frequently came and went on this island, never coming with evil intentions. The villagers never found this odd, even though tales of barbaric pirates and bloodthirsty sailors reached their ears quite often. They had faith in the pirates that knew of this island._

_Just as one of the pirate men lobbed the ball at one of the girls playing, a loud explosion rent the air. Large flaming bits of wood and stone flew every which way, impaling and crushing anything they landed on. The pirates all drew their weapons, but they were swiftly cut down by hidden gunfire. The villagers ran around shouting in panic as they, too, were mowed down. The group of children scattered and took refuge in nearby buildings, screaming loudly._

_"Ahahaha!" A tall Marine couldn't contain his amusement as he fearlessly walked through the streets. He pointed at the remaining pirates, and his Marines filled them with bullets. "I am Captain Rickard Slatch! This town has been far too accepting towards wanted criminals, so the Marines have decided to raze it to the ground! For freedom from fear! For the abolition of wickedness! For justice!" _

_"This is not justice!" a man shouted out. The entire scene froze. Even the birds stopped moving, choosing instead to sit on the roofs and stare down at the lull in the fighting._

_Captain Slatch walked forwards, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. "What did you say?"_

_"This is not justice!" A small group of people walked before him, placing themselves between the Marines and the rest of the townsfolk. "You are the ones we fear! You are the wicked ones! You do not uphold justice! Justice is where criminals atone for their sins! These pirates are not sinners, else they wouldn't be here!"_

_"Oh?" Captain Slatch's dangerous expression still lingered on his face. "And why not?"_

_The man faltered. Captain Slatch let out a booming laugh and pointed at the man. "You, sir. What do you do for a living?"_

_"I'm a doctor," the man said._

_Captain Slatch nodded. He looked at the slightly shorter man standing next to the doctor. "And you, sir?"_

_The man didn't speak, but merely glared at the Marine. A small bespectacled boy clung to his hand, staring fearfully at the Marine. Captain Slatch laughed again. "All right, then. And the rest of you?" His finger swept the crowd._

_"Doctor."_

_"Potter."_

_"Farmer."_

_"Blacksmith."_

_"Houseman."_

_"Teacher."_

_"Farmer."_

_Captain Slatch grinned. "Oh, so none of you are Marines?"_

_"No!" shouted one of the women. "And we never will be!"_

_"Marines are the only ones who truly know what justice is!" Captain Slatch's face reddened with anger. "All children! Front and center!"_

_He waited impatiently. After a few moments, four courageous children walked forward. A scowling boy came out from behind the doctor, wearing a bloody hat decorated by a Jolly Roger. The bespectacled boy timidly followed him, still shying away from the Marine Captain. A teenage blonde girl shrugged her way out of her mother's arms, picking up the deflated ball as she strode forward. And finally, a young man, practically an adult, joined his friends. "Yes?" the girl asked haughtily._

_Captain Slatch knelt down, beckoning the children closer. The parents made as if to stop him, but the clicking of Marine rifles stopped them in their tracks. "You know why we Marines are doing this?"_

_"Because you feel like it?" the girl snapped, flinging the remnants of the ball at his face._

_The Marine leader adopted a mock wounded expression. "That's not entirely true." _

_"Captain Neal was my friend!" the hat-bearing boy snarled, ignoring the blood trickling from the tricorne._

_"Now, see, that is where you're wrong," Slatch said soothingly. "You see, he was only gaining your trust. He was going to use you to gain leverage over your parents. Children, you must always be vigilant towards this kind of thing. Pirates think of nothing but their lives and their purses. How would you like to come with me and I'll show you how to live more freely than you have in your whole lives?"_

_The hat-wearing boy opened his mouth to say something, but the young man beat him to it. "Burn in hell."_

_"John!" his mother gasped._

_"Fiery." Captain Slatch's gaze hardened. "I don't like fire."_

_A shot rang out. The boy slumped to the ground, staring upwards with sightless eyes. His parents cried out, running towards the fallen boy before they, too, were killed. Slatch stood up, dusting off his pants. "Seize the girls. Raze the town to the ground."_

_The adults all dashed forward, picking up discarded weapons and confronting the Marines. No matter how many sailors they were able to kill, their losses accumulated much faster. The two boys were too shocked to move. A pair of surviving pirates picked them up and ran some ways before they were mowed down as well. Seeing that they were cut off from all sides, the boys dove into a building and away from the fierce fighting. They stood against the back wall, the bespectacled one holding a small chest that the dying pirate captain had given him and the other holding two flaming torches as if they were clubs. They were watching people running here and there when a Marine appeared in the doorway._

_"Well, well, well. What have we here? The two little runts who- ouch!"_

_The torch-wielding boy ran forwards, twirling the flaming bits of wood. He swung one at the man's face, grinding flaming pitch into the man's eyes. The man let out a scream of pain and dropped to the ground, furiously rubbing at his burning face._

_"Alexander, go! I'll hold them off!"_

_The boy with the chest shook his head in determination. "I'm not leaving you, Damien!"_

_Damien kicked the fallen man's side hard enough to break his ribs and slam him through the wall. "Go!"_

_"No! I won't leave you."_

_The boy grinned and shook his head. "Fine. Do whatever you want." He turned back in time to see the other man charge at him with a sword. He threw the torches at the attacking man while swiftly retreating. The Marine just knocked the torches out of the way and continued charging forward. Alexander suddenly jumped forward and swung the chest he was holding, hitting the man full in the face. The man went down, giving Damien ample opportunity to pounce on him and beat him senseless._

_"Come on, we need to get out of here!" Alexander shouted. Damien nodded and turned towards the door. He glanced outside and saw three men hauling a cannon down the road, aiming at their shelter. Adrenaline pumping throughout his body, he bodily lifted Alexander up and launched him through the rear window, just as the men fired the cannon._

"That's terrible," Lyn said quietly.

Alexander nodded, a sad look in his face. "It was indeed. I managed to drag his half-baked carcass out of the mess and into the forest. It took me a day to find the shamans that live hidden in the trees. Only thing I had to eat was the fruit in the chest, and let me tell you, that was the foulest thing I had ever tasted. When we found the shamans, they helped me… reconstruct Damien."

"What do you mean, reconstruct?" Lyn clapped her hands together in surprise. "Is he a robot?"

"Close, but not really. You see, he was smashed up pretty badly. It took a long time before he was even able to move again. Of course, he's always been a fast healer, and now he can punch through metal, so there we go. Anyway, after all that, we teamed up with some of the other survivors and harassed the Marines as best we could while they built a base here. Not all of us made it. Some died; others left. Damien and I are the only ones still here."

"Why are you still here?"

His smile vanished completely. "The man that killed our parents is still here. Now, I'm not here for his head. I want him to be held accountable for his crimes."

"How are you going to do that if you stay here?"

"I can't really. No court in the World Government would try him for his crimes. That being said, Damien wants to rip Slatch limb from limb, and that's why he's here. I'm with him to keep him alive. He's tougher than I'll ever be, but I couldn't leave him on my own. He's all I have left."

Lyn couldn't help but feel sympathy for the man. She walked over and embraced him in a deep hug. He stood stock still for a moment before briefly returning the gesture. When she let go, she couldn't help but giggle. Even in the moonlight, she could see his bright blush. "I thought that'd cheer you up!"

"Yes, well." He took a moment to compose himself. "I'm sorry, I never got your name."

"Oh! I'm Lyn! Nice to meet you, Alex!"

"Alexander." She frowned in confusion. "My name is Alexander. It is not Alex or Xander or any of those other derivatives. It is Alexander."

"Okay, okay. Nice to meet you, Alexander!"

"Thank you. Now, I think our friends have played together for long enough." He brought a trumpet to his lips and blew a single clear note.

As he lowered his arms, Lyn applauded excitedly. "You're a musician? That's so awesome!"

"I can find my way around a few instruments."

"I'm an artist too! I do paintings and drawings and stuff!"

He bowed his head in appreciation. "Well, it's always nice to meet another creator."

Lyn leapt away as something burst through the wall next to them. When the dust settled, she was surprised to see her captain lying in the rubble, blood leaking from various wounds and her clothing torn. A shape Lyn could only assumed belonged to Damien pushed its way through the remnants of the wall. He was a much larger man than his friend, looming almost a full head above Lyn. He was mostly hidden in shadow, but she could see thick dreadlocks sprouting from his head and the lean muscles of his body.

Captain spat to the side and looked over at Lyn. "I take it you made peace with this one."

"I did! His name is Alexander, not Alex. You must be Damien! Nice to meet you!"

He completely ignored her, instead focusing on his friend. "Better 'ave a good fuckin' reason fer interruptin' me fight, shit'ead."

Confused, Lyn leaned towards the shorter man and murmured, "What did he say?"

"He lost part of his tongue. Mate, you took on that band of Marines two days ago. You're fine for a fight."

Lyn gasped as Damien easily lifted Alexander by the front of his jacket and slammed him against the wall. "Aye, an' they were fledgling gobshites. This concubine's a lot more fuckin' fun."

"I am not a concubine," Captain said flatly, dodging Damien's backhand that Lyn could barely see. "I am Captain Cassandra, leader of the Black Glove Pirates."

Unexpectedly, Damien dropped his hostility in favor of amusement. He let Alexander go as he roared with laughter. "Yahahahar! A fuckin' cap'n? Izzat so? Well, that fuckin' 'splains it all! Yer a tough bitch all right! Yahahar!"

"Quite a colorful vocabulary you've got there." Captain dusted herself off as she looked him over. "And I could say the same about you. I don't think I've ever met anyone tougher."

"That's partially my fault," Alexander said. "He was always strong and built like a tank, but after the incident with the Marines, I helped the shamans during his reconstruction by turning his bones to metal. He had to compensate for the extra weight, but you've got the hang of it now, haven't you?"

"Shamans? Reconstruction?"

Lyn jumped in before Alexander could answer. "I'll tell you later. What was that about turning his bones into metal?"

"Didn't I tell you?" He picked up a rock and held it up for them to see. "Eau Magie." The rock dissolved into a clear liquid and dripped from his fingers. "I ate the Kae Kae Fruit. I can turn anything into a single pure substance. I guess you could call me an alchemist of sorts?"

"That. Is. Amazing!" Lyn grabbed his hand and gazed awestruck at his wet fingers. "That's gotta be the coolest thing ever!"

"Indeed so. Damien, don't wander off now."

Lyn turned to see that the man was already leaving. "Fuck you."

"I'm serious. This concerns both of us."

"Like I give a fuck."

"Damien-"

The artist jumped as Damien's head burst into flame, filling the area with light. For the first time, she got a good look at him. He was covered in more scars than skin. His entire body showed signs of old and recent. The injuries from his fight with Captain were leaking blood, but he paid them no heed. He slowly turned around, showing the most terrifying set of teeth Lyn had ever seen. She could not truly call it a smile, even if she excluded his four long fangs. He stalked back to them, thunder growing in his chest.

"I ain' in the mood for yer shitty games, pigfucker."

"This is no game. This directly involves both of us. You and I, we can't be here forever, mate."

"Wha's yer fuckin' point?"

"My point is we could go with them."

Captain stared at the shorter man. "Excuse me."

"Look, hear me out. You are a pirate captain with only one crewmember." Lyn looked as innocent as she could when Captain's sharp stare fixed upon her. "Damien and I could join."

"Ain' no fuckin way-"

"Please explain to me why I should accept the two of you."

"Fuck that. Why th' fuck should I go wit' these 'ores?"

"I sincerely doubt that a misogynist brute would fit on my crew."

Alexander lifted his finger to interject. "Now, to be fair, he insults everyone without care for gender. But he's a damn good navigator and, as you've regrettably experienced, an even better fighter. He won't stop until his opponent is dead or he is, and you can see the results of that right now."

Lyn saw. She could hardly believe someone could get hurt so much and survive. She was extremely curious about how his head was on fire, but nobody else was panicking. The mood wasn't right for questions anyway. Captain crossed her arms as she stared at the flaming man. "Interesting."

"Now 'old on a cocksuckin' second-"

"Mate, you and I are pirates, just like they are. Salt's in our blood. We belong at sea, not stuck on this island forever. Neither of us is willing to use a Marine ship, so do we just wait and hope one of our friends returns? No, we must seize this opportunity. We're not captain material, so we'd have to join a crew even if we did miraculously find some way to go to another island."

"I ain' leavin' til those circle-jerkin' minge-eatin' taintlickers're all dead."

"We can help with that." Everyone turned to Captain in surprise. "I'm willing two let you two join my crew on a probationary status. After a week or two, I'll decide whether you become crewmembers or not. In exchange, Lyn and I will assist you in exacting whatever measure of revenge you deem to be satisfactory. I will be your commanding officer, and both of you will serve beneath me. Do we have a deal?"

Alexander winced slightly. "Damien's not exactly the serving type. He'll acknowledge you as captain, but I wouldn't exactly say he'll cooperate."

"I'm curious as to why you're making yourselves appear less attractive."

"Trust me, I want us to join your crew," Alexander assured her. "I just want to be honest with you with the type of person he is."

Captain stared at the large man as she contemplated this. "Most interesting. You'll accept me as captain, but not listen to my orders?"

"I ain' in it fer you," he snarled. "I fight th' strongest mingemunchers I c'n find. Gimme a ship, an' I'll go wherever the fuckers are. O' course, where we're 'eadin', there's only one fuckin' direction we c'n sail."

Lyn had no idea what he was talking about, but she could tell Alexander did. Captain's face was unreadable as she thought about what she should do. "Do we have a deal?"

Damien glowered down at them all, his lips drawing back to bare his vicious teeth. All of a sudden, the flames engulfing his head extinguished, and he let loose a howl of laughter. "Yahahar, a deal we 'ave! This'll be fun!"

Alexander grinned sheepishly. "You're going to have to get used to that too. Never really sure what he's going to do next."

"It's settled, then." Captain looked oddly satisfied considering who she had just allowed to join her crew. "Now, what do you want us to do?"

* * *

Two potential new crewmembers. Now things are warming up.


	5. Infiltrating a Paper Stronghold

Since I've been overwhelmingly bored lately, I thought I'd update again. So here it is, the fifth chapter of the Black Glove Pirates. I realize that it's a bit on the short side, but that's to build up the suspense...

* * *

"You didn't tell me it would be a fully garrisoned Marine command post," Cassandra said, gazing at the large wall encompassing the fortress.

Alexander's stare was full of hatred. "That's not the problem."

"The minimum number of Marines in a given command post is two hundred and fifty. Do you know how many are in this one?"

"Three hundred or so," Alexander said absently. "But that's not the problem."

Lyn gaped at him. "That's not the problem. Then what is the problem?"

"The commander here has a massive God-complex. He has a room in which he can control the weather."

Cassandra crossed her arms. "And this is a problem why?"

"Hothead's a human lightningrod." Damien growled bestially at the thought. "And Slatch can get electricity to go anywhere in the base, even if he can't easily direct it outside that room. He can zap Damien from anywhere."

"So get rid of his metal bones."

Alexander coughed in embarrassment. "Well, I can't actually reverse any transmutations yet. I'm still working on that. Point is, can you help us bring him down?"

Cassandra leaned against the wall, thinking hard. After a moment of silence, she stared at the large scarred man next to her. "How many Marines can you take on?"

"Every fuckin' spunkbubble."

"Then since a half thousand Marines doesn't scare you, you cause a distraction. Alexander, you come with us. We'll take care of any inside Marines, including the commander. Got it?" They all nodded in agreement. "Well go on, then. Attract the attention of the entire base."

Damien gave a malevolent smile, and two great black shadows materialized behind him. Before Cassandra could make out what they were, the man jumped up and vanished into the darkness, leaving an enormous gust of wind behind in his wake. They waited, the sheer weight of the darkness and the stillness of the night making them all slightly nervous.

"Wait, what was the signal?" Lyn asked.

Suddenly, a large crack echoed throughout the night. They could see a large cloud composed of dust and rock erupt into the air amid gouts of flame. The sound of shouting and screams of pain reached their ears.

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. "I assume that is the signal."

"But what do we do now?" Lyn complained. "How are we supposed to get through the wall?"

Alexander put his right hand on the wall and closed his eyes. "Eau… Magie." A section of metal, roughly the size of a door, shimmered from his touch. Nothing happened for a moment, but the metal swiftly turned transparent and sloshed down onto their feet. "No wall can hold me out for long."

"Impressive work, Alexander. Come." They walked through the hole and into the Marine base. They glanced around, marveling at the emptiness of the grounds surrounding them. There were a few Marines running in the distance, but they were all rushing towards Damien's mad laughter. Cassandra was interested if he lived up to Alexander's praise.

They walked directly up to a small metal door set in the massive fortress. Cassandra knew this was no coincidence. Alexander had to have known of the door's location. He had been inside the fortress before. This was obvious from his knowledge of the weather room. She entertained the possibility that it was a trap, but this situation seemed even more unlikely than the one on Alamentia. Their loathing of the Marines was genuine. That was always a good quality to have in a pirate.

Lyn tried the door, but the handle was locked. Cassandra could easily have picked it, but she gestured for Alexander to deal with it. The alchemist gripped the handle and swiftly turned it to water. The door swung open smoothly at Alexander's gentle push. "Transmuting is tiring, so I try to conserve energy whenever I can."

"Smart man." Cassandra could appreciate actions like that. "Do you know the way to the weather room?"

"I only got there once, and I wasn't the one leading the way."

"Can you remember anything that stood out about the room? Anything in particular that differentiates it from the rest of the base?" Alexander looked at her, clearly bewildered. "I'm a good tracker."

"She can see in the dark!"

Cassandra fought to keep from smiling. "Yes, Lyn, I can do that too, but that isn't really relevant here. I want to know if there is anything special that I can use to find that room."

Alexander stared off into space as he thought. "I'm sorry. I can't think of anything. Last time I was there, I was more focused on escaping any way I could."

"That's fine. We'll just ask these fine gentlemen." Before her companions could ask what she meant, she bolted for the end of the hallway. She kicked off the wall and careened around the corner, catching the Marines completely by surprise. She floored one of them with a flying punch and slammed the heel of her palm into the chin of another. One Marine had better reflexes than his comrades and swung at her, but she merely ducked beneath his haymaker and thrust the side of her hand into his throat. The final Marine didn't have time to respond before her knee smashed into his groin, causing him to double over in pain. To finish him off, her elbow struck the back of his head, sending him crashing to the floor.

Of the four soldiers, only the one who had been punched was fit to move. He tried to get up, but the boot on his chest prevented him from rising. He froze as Cassandra aimed her pistol at him, not daring to move a muscle. "Who is the highest ranking officer in this base?"

"I'm not telling you anything! I don't listen to the demands of criminals!"

"Who said anything about demands? I just want to know the name of your superior."

"Commodore Slatch is in charge," Alexander said as he and Lyn came up behind her. "He got promoted after he destroyed everything."

The Marine's eyes widened in recognition. "You!"

"Yes. Me." Alexander crouched by the downed soldier. "When the sun rises tomorrow, this base will be a shadow of its former self. Your existence has gone on long enough. Your foothold will be gone, and this island will have a chance to live again. You know who I am and who my comrade is. Where is Slatch's room?"

"I-I'm not telling you!"

"You're a courageous man. You know what I can do, and you still won't answer? I am an alchemist and a spirit-talker. When you die, nobody will ever find your body. There won't be any trace left. And if you think you're going to the afterlife, you're mistaken. I will bind you to this land, forever stuck with those you slaughtered in cold blood. I suppose they will be impressed with your bravery if they aren't focused on making you suffer. You ended many lives prematurely."

The Marine's eyes were wide with fright. "But that wasn't me!"

"The seagull on your clothes associates you with those who defiled this land. Do you think it matters to them?"

"But... but..."

Alexander bowed his head and lowered his hand above the Marine's forehead. "_Pala pui sace imes ont co-_"

"All right! All right!" the soldier screamed in panic. "I'll tell you! Just don't kill me!"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. That was certainly an effective tactic. The Marine seemed to believe Alexander's wild claims, which meant she needed to learn more about her potential crewmembers. She knew about Alexander's alchemy, but he mentioned being a spirit-talker. She wanted to know more about what he meant by that. She paid the barest minimum of attention to the directions the terrified Marine was giving, focusing instead on their surroundings. Most of what she could hear came from the chaos outside, but footsteps and the rattle of guns still echoed through the corridors ahead. None of them were close to the pirates at the moment, but that could change very suddenly.

"Are you done?" she asked, still staring down the hallway. "We should keep moving."

"We are, Captain. Do you mind if I call you that?"

"Call me whatever you wish. Come." Eight shots rang out, causing Lyn and Alexander to jump in surprise. Cassandra had holstered her pistol and taken a few steps before she realized her companions hadn't budged. She turned to instruct them to follow her, but the words died in her throat when she realized what was the matter. Lyn had frozen stock still, staring down at the four corpses with wide blue eyes. Cassandra had forgotten how sheltered a life Lyn had led.

She slowly approached the first mate, not wanting to startle her. "Lyn, I will be perfectly clear. I am a killer. I'm quite good at it, as a matter of fact. I've been trained since birth to kill someone. But you must know one thing. I would never hurt an innocent person. You've seen how I can shoot. I don't miss. I will use lethal force to protect my life and the lives of my crewmembers, but only if our lives are in danger. I will use only the force I deem necessary to eliminate any obstacle in our way. If I can get away with simply incapacitating an opponent, I will do so. But I carry around pistols for more than just show. I know how to use them."

Lyn still looked conflicted, her stare not budging from the bodies. Alexander rested a hand on her shoulder, causing her to jump slightly. "If I may interject, I know how you feel, Lyn." She finally looked away from the dead Marines, focusing on him in confusion. "I have the ability to turn someone to water just by touching them. It's a powerful ability. It frightens me how easily I could erase someone. Furthermore, I can communicate with spirits and ask for their aid to increase the power of my attacks. It would make sense for me to acquire as many souls as I can handle to increase my power, is it not?

"The key is that I am like you, in a sense. I am a man of faith. I don't believe killing is right. I haven't taken a single life, regardless of how carelessly I could do it. I am exaggerating my ability a little; I can't simply brush up against a man and turn him to water. It takes a little to channel my ability, but the principle is the same."

Cassandra was gazing through the wall to where she knew Damien was fighting. While she couldn't hear much through the thick walls, she could hear enough to know he was still in combat. It was time to see if Alexander's boast that the bestial man would and could fight until his enemies were all dead. "Get to your point."

"I just wanted to explain my stance on the issue. Now, Damien is dearer to me than a brother, and though he may not show it, he feels the same way. He means more to me than anything. He's all I have left, after all. I want you to know this, because he's extremely different from me. He loves nothing more than fighting, and he hates the Marines. He'd rip them all apart with his bare hands if he could. His thirst for blood is insatiable, and his goal in life is to be the strongest being alive. Despite all that, I still care about him. Captain has been very forthcoming with her lethality, and she has promised not to misuse that power. It's okay to be afraid of her, but you shouldn't hate her for what she does."

Lyn resumed staring at the bodies as she thought about Alexander's words. Cassandra was focused on the fighting outside. She wanted to get moving again before the Marine Commodore used his lightning mechanism to electrify her potential recruit. She would probably be able to sense the activation of the machine, but hearing the fighting ensured that it had not been used. However, she understood the importance of letting Lyn deal with everything she had just witnessed and heard. Having a troubled crewmember was no good.

She shifted her gaze as Lyn nodded fiercely and brought her gloved fist down on her palm, indicating she had reached a conclusion. "Just because you're a killer doesn't mean you're a bad person! You're just protecting us! You're awesome, so I know you won't slip up and hurt someone you don't mean to! I have the best captain in the world!"

Cassandra smirked at Alexander's exasperated amusement as she shook her head. "I'm glad to hear that. Let's keep moving." She started down the corridor, feeling satisfied when two sets of footsteps mixed with hers. "And I apologize for killing these four men. It was unnecessary, but I thought it was risky to let them live and assumed that Alexander would share his companion's desire to see every Marine on this island dead."

"Don't worry about it, Captain. I may prefer reconciliation over retribution, but the sins of these men are too great for a man like me to forgive. I know it's wrong, but I can't help but feel some sense of satisfaction with the deaths of these men."

"It's you who shouldn't worry. Only a saint could forgive those who have so grievously wronged them, and forgive me for saying you are anything but. I may not be a paragon myself, but I will do my best to be a good leader. Let us be silent for now; we will have plenty of time to chat when we're finished."

Lyn abruptly leapt forward, and Cassandra decided against dodging away. She wanted the artist to feel as comfortable as possible around her. She didn't want to lead a crew through fear. She staggered forward a few steps as Lyn wrapped her arms around her captain's neck and hugged tightly. Cassandra's senses took in Lyn's presence, her scent, heartbeat, warmth, softness, but she didn't mind. She didn't need to be acutely aware of her surroundings at the moment, merely aware enough to detect any immediate danger.

They worked their way through the labyrinthine base without encountering any more Marines. That meant that the man distracting them outside was still very much alive and very much a threat. She was beginning to like this pair of recruits more and more. While Damien was quite a fighter, Alexander had a good head on his shoulders and a fascinating Devil Fruit. She highly doubted they were trying to trap her, so barring any unforeseen complications, they would make quite a fine addition to her crew. She would reserve judgment for later, but their prospects appeared promising.

When they reached the door leading to Commodore Slatch's chamber, they found it guarded by two Marines. The soldiers immediately aimed at them and started firing, but Cassandra had ducked back around the corner and pulled Alexander with her. While she waited for the inaccurate shots to subside, she rested a hand on the musician's shoulder. "A pirate should be able to handle himself in combat. Even without killing, conflict is inevitable."

"It would be my pleasure." He brought his trumpet to his lips and began playing a tune. Cassandra felt Lyn slacken her grip, as the music grew louder and more elaborate. She could almost picture a scene using the music, a man preparing for battle. As the bullets ceased and the Marines began paying attention, Alexander walked around the corner to face his opponents dead on. "Trompette Sonnerie!"

The entire hallway was shaken by a mighty shockwave. Chunks of the ceiling and walls were blasted backwards as the ripples that spread through the hallway bent the metal and stone beyond their breaking points. The pair of Marines were smashed against the door, pinned by the immense force. After the sound subsided, they limply fell to the ground in a heap. The echoes lingered in the corridors for quite some time, though Cassandra wasn't entirely sure that was just her own ears ringing. She wiggled a finger in her ear as she admired the musician's handiwork.

"What on earth was that?"

"As I have mentioned repeatedly, I am a spirit-talker, though a more accurate term would be summoner. I have very little skill in hand-to-hand combat, but I make up for it by channeling spirits to enhance my music. I think I went a little overboard there. Doing that really drains me."

Cassandra noticed everything from new sheen of sweat on his skin to his heavy breathing. "I can see that. We'll work on that if I let you join. We have business to attend to."

She strode down the broken hallway and shoved aside one of the Marines with her boot. A cursory survey revealed he was still alive, albeit injured and unconscious. The handles to the door had a peculiar blue-green shade that she recognized instantly. To confirm her assumption, she indicated for Alexander to open the doors, but the alchemist shook his hands before him. "Slatch wised up when I came to see him last. I can't get through seastone handles, and they prevent me from effectively transmuting the door as well.

The pirate captain nodded and gripped the handle tightly, her right hand on her pistol. After making sure her two companions were ready, she twisted the handle and threw the door open.

* * *

The suspense has been built...


	6. Defying God

And so, the sixth chapter of this story becomes available to the public. And when I say that, I mean that people can read it. They should also review, however. That would be nice.

I do not own One Piece. I don't own two pieces, either. Hell, let's just say that I only own some of the characters and leave it at that.

* * *

The size of the room was impressive, to say the least. The _Howling Knave_ could have been laid bow-to-stern thrice without touching the walls. The domed ceiling was crisscrossed with lines and dots that revealed complex machinery. A large circle of light hung on the ceiling, matching the moon's position on the sky. What surprised Cassandra were the rolling hills covered with green grass. It was the first sign of plant life she had seen on the island. There were even trees and shrubs scattered throughout the room. It was as if she had stepped into a completely different land.

"Welcome to what my home used to look like," Alexander said dryly, "before a certain man built this machine and destroyed the climate. Slatch! Are you here?"

"You!" A deep voice reverberated throughout the dome. Cassandra was impressed by the cloud bearing a white-robed man that glided over the hills. She could see no strings or indentation in the grass. The Marine did not have any weapons on him, and Cassandra was seriously tempted to shoot him off his fake cloud. However, she knew that if a man had annihilated her entire family, she would not want another person robbing her of her revenge.

For all his previous hostility, Alexander managed to keep his voice remarkably calm. "I come to you seeking help. You're surely aware of my former companion, the last man besides me."

Commodore Slatch nodded sagely. "Yes, the hellion. What of him?"

"I can't control him any longer. You know what a demon he is. I need your help, the help only a true Marine commodore, a true messenger from God could provide."

"Your plight is unsurprising," Commodore Slatch boomed. "I have seen this man. He is a most uncooperative being. However, you are not exempt from blame. I remember you, thaumaturge. You have been a continual nuisance."

"And for that, I am most sorry. Please, allow me to serenade you as a symbol of my repentance."

"Very well, musician," Commodore Slatch said, waving his hand permissively. "If your tune pleases me, I will consider forgiving you your sins."

Alexander bowed deeply and put his trumpet to his lips. He inhaled as much as he could, puffed his cheeks, and played. A joyful tune poured forth from the trumpet, drowning out the faint sounds of combat. The music brought the image of an animal leaping freely through a forest to Cassandra's mind. She was amazed at how easily she could imagine the scene, some free creature frolicking in the sun filtering through the trees. It took her a moment to drag herself from the pleasant imagery, not wanting to be caught off guard. She looked around to see that Lyn and Commodore Slatch were completely entranced, matching happy expressions on their faces.

The tune slowly turned for the worse as Alexander played on, causing visible distress. Cassandra closed her eyes to rejoin the other two in experiencing the music. The forest had darkened, and hunters were pursuing the once carefree animal. Shots rang out, and the animal fell. A single tear wove its way down Cassandra's face. She brushed it away quickly, glancing around to make sure nobody had seen. Lyn was openly crying, and Commodore Slatch was dabbing at the corners of his eyes with a handkerchief. As the melody came to a close, they all breathed a sigh of relief.

Alexander's breast heaved as he lowered his instrument. "Did you like my song?"

Cassandra frowned as she looked at the musician. His voice was odd, as if several people were echoing his words a split-second after he spoke them. If Commodore Slatch noticed, he gave no indication. "That was truly a spectacular piece of work. Where did you learn to play so well?"

"Captain Newton inspired musicians throughout the world." The Marine commodore frowned as he realized what Alexander was saying. "And in case you had forgotten, I owe much more to the Sea Devil than your god. Trompette Sonnerie!" A single note blasted out, so loud and forceful that Commodore Slatch was blown clear off of his cloud and slammed into the wall on the other side of the room. The sound continued for a moment, keeping Commodore Slatch pinned against the wall. As the note faded, the Marine slumped to the ground. Alexander followed suit, panting heavily.

"Damn, that even more out of me than I thought it would," he grumbled through gasps of breath. He glanced up at Cassandra and flashed a brief grin. "Hope you liked the song."

"It was impressive." Cassandra knelt beside him as she looked him over. "Perhaps a bit needlessly drawn out, but points for creativity. Can you stand?"

"No," Alexander gasped, "not right now. Let me sit for a while."

"You understand that by doing so, you hand the revenge to me and Lyn."

The exhausted musician put a hand to his chest. "I got my shot in. That's all I ever expected to get."

"I won't draw it out," Cassandra informed him. "I intend to get this over with and clean up whoever Damien didn't."

"As much as I would appreciate anything else you could do to him, do what you want, Captain."

Cassandra put a hand on his shoulder, then pointed her chin at the downed Marine. Lyn nodded and drew her rapier. Cassandra followed her first mate, undoing the latches on her pistol holsters.

Commodore Slatch was staggering to his feet, a hand clapped to the side of his head. As he saw the two women advance across the room, he gave a haggard grin. "You think that could kill me? I was sent by God!" The room darkened and clouds started swirling overhead. Lightning crackled ominously overhead as clouds grew thick and black. The glowing orb representing the moon began to dim in addition to being partially obscured by the billowing clouds.

Lyn faltered slightly in the growing darkness, but Cassandra reassuringly touched her back. "Darkness means nothing to me, Commodore. Did you forget I consort with devils?"

"Do not test me, heathen!" Slatch commanded. "The weather is under my control!"

His playing at being a divine messenger was getting on her nerves. As quickly as she wanted to finish the Marine commodore off, Damien was still fighting outside. She had time to play with her prey. "Saggita Diania." Her pistol was out and back inside her holster in a flash. The fake moon exploded in a shower of sparks, pieces of glittering metal and dull glass falling to the grass. The room turned almost completely black, the only light came from the windows at the apex of the dome, where the real moon tried its best to illuminate them. "You're not the only one who can control it."

"You will cease your mockery!" he bellowed, raising his arms into the air. "Divine Wind!"

Lyn looked around in confusion. "Did I miss something?"

Suddenly, a powerful wind picked up. A vicious roar grew as a huge gust of wind bowled Cassandra head over heels. After bouncing and rolling for a bit, she finally came to a stop. She lay still for a moment, before shaking her head slowly to rid herself of the dizziness. After the spinning sensation settled down, she looked around, trying to see how everybody else was doing. To her surprise, Lyn was already on her feet, looking dazedly around. Alexander merely rested on the ground, his trumpet lying against a tree some distance away.

"You see, foolish infidels?" Slatch sneered. "You cannot hope to contend with me!"

"Spirits of saints, would you stop with this 'infidel' nonsense?" Lyn said, comforting her spinning head. "You're just as mortal as the rest of us!"

"How dare you!" Commodore Slatch started menacingly towards the first mate, but Cassandra would have none of it.

"Basia Veneria!" She deliberately aimed so as not to kill him. Slatch gave a cry of pain as he fell to the ground, limbs riddled with bullet holes. He had at least a few minutes before he bled out. "Don't be going anywhere, now."

Lyn was still looking around, and Cassandra saw that the novice had lost her rapier. Catching sight of the weapon glinting in the grass, Cassandra retrieved it and swung it experimentally. She knew little of swordsmanship, but the weapon seemed good enough. Lyn had heard the blade swishing through the air and began making her way over to her captain. "Oh, you found it! Your eyes are amazing!"

"I know. Go make sure Alexander is okay."

"Like hell! I know where the faker is, but I don't have a clue where Alexander is!"

The pirate captain was getting used to Lyn's adjustments or outright defiance of her orders. "Fine. He may be hurt, but he's still a commodore. He so much as twitches, stick him and let me know."

"You got it." The novice saluted and ducked out of sight behind a small hill.

Cassandra went to her downed potential crewmember, who was sitting against a tree with his hand on his ribs. His breath hitched as she approached, but he relaxed as she identified herself. "How's it going, Captain?"

"That's my question."

Alexander grinned weakly. "I haven't failed the entrance exam, have I?"

"Top marks so far."

"Then I'm shipshape. Don't worry about me. You just get the bastard, aye?"

"I will." She turned her attention to the wounded Marine inching along the wall. He had made his way over to a rocky cliff and was about to hide behind it when a thin glimmer materialized by his cheek. A lone drop of blood oozed down his cheek as Lyn slowly moved him away from the cliff.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Cassandra could barely hear Lyn's low voice. "If you move, I'll kill you in a heartbeat."

Slatch nodded and eased back against the wall, looking thoroughly displeased. Lyn kept her rapier against his head as she looked at Cassandra. "Is Alex all right?"

"Alexander." He finished his correction with a hacking cough.

"Just keep an eye on Slatch." Cassandra crouched beside the musician again. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"That was the strongest attack I've ever done. Took more out of me than I thought."

"Your stamina isn't very good, is it."

He coughed a few more times. "I've always been the brains to Hothead's brawn."

"Definitely a curious relationship," Cassandra mused. "I certainly need to talk to you two later."

"Best of luck there, Captain." Even in the dark, he understood her desire for elaboration. "Damien's not really the talkative type."

"So he's an insubordinate, uncommunicative man whose sole redeeming feature is his fighting prowess."

"He's a good navigator too."

Cassandra shook her head. "Outstanding." She frowned as she spotted something. "Lyn! Where is Slatch?"

The artist stared at the empty patch of grass before her. "What?! How could I lose him?"

"That's what I want to know!" Even for Lyn, this was ridiculous. "He was right below you! How did he manage to escape?"

"Well, I didn't-" Lyn was cut off by a loud, booming voice echoing around the dome.

"You have done well for mere blasphemers. However, do not even try to go against God, for you shall die!" Cassandra looked wildly around, looking for the source of the voice. Commodore Slatch had somehow managed to get to the point in the room farthest from all of them. She had no idea how he managed to move so quickly with his injuries. He was holding his arms above his head, and energy was flaring in the clouds above them. "Reign of Fire!"

Illuminating the clouds below it in a sinister red radiance, a gigantic flaming crown appeared at the zenith of the dome, provoking cries of shock from Lyn and Alexander. It hung there for a moment before bursting into a million little flecks, which slowly began to drift downwards. Cassandra eyed them warily, then tried to see if Slatch was sustaining this articficial. However, the Marine commodore had taken shelter under a tall rock and was laughing manically at them. Cursing, she quickly turned around, trying to find a suitable shelter for the pirates as well. "Help me find something to hide under!"

"There are trees everywhere!" Lyn exclaimed.

Cassandra was about to respond when the wave of flecks descended to the level of the treetops. As soon as the flakes of fire hit the upper leaves, the trees erupted into flame. Alexander glanced tiredly at the woman and asked, "Does that answer your question?"

Seeing that there was no accessible shelter given the time she had, Cassandra saw one possible solution. As captain, she was supposed to look after her crew and protect them, regardless of her own health. "Lyn, get over to Alexander!" she shouted, running for the exhausted musician.

"What're you planning to do?" Lyn yelled back.

"Just do as I say!" Cassandra shouted. "Alexander, can you turn the ground into water?"

"I'll do my best."

"Try," Cassandra commanded, reaching the musician at the same time that Lyn did.

Nodding, Alexander took a deep breath and put his hand on the ground. "Eau… Magie."

A small pit of water formed, but it was barely enough for one person to curl up in. Alexander looked sadly up at her. "I'm sorry, Captain. I tried… I tried…"

"That's good enough," Cassandra assured him. "Both of you, stand in the water."

"But Captain-" Lyn began.

"Right now!" Cassandra insisted. Nodding, Lyn and Alexander slipped into the water. The liquid came to around their waists, but Cassandra guessed it would have to do. Staring at the reflection in the water of the fiery flakes descending upon them, Cassandra made sure her hat was firmly on her head and that none of her hair was under any of the falling fire. She shrugged off her black outer shirt and balled it up under her, for if she survived, she knew she would need it.

"No, Captain!" Lyn said when she realized what Cassandra was doing.

But it was too late. By that time, the flecks were just above them. Cassandra knelt down and leaned over them, covering them as best she could. She took a deep breath, concentrating hard upon her body. "Voluntas Carnae."

By her will alone, adrenaline began to course through her body, magnifying her senses exponentially. Then, with another deep breath, she practically eliminated her senses all together. She felt her vision begin to blur and the protests of the pair below her faded away in her ears. But most importantly, her sense of pain dulled down, as did her sense of heat. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, knowing that it was still going to hurt.

It did. When the flecks landed, her back felt like it was going to explode. She felt her hat and shirt catch on fire, sending pain rippling through her body. She could vaguely hear her screams meld in with the shrieks of the two people below her, but the pain spreading across her body drove sound from her brain as well. Her mind seemed to become overwhelmed by a bright white light, which she soon realized was the pure essence of the pain she was experiencing. She barely felt her eyes close and her face collide with the flaming grass below her.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Red.

That was all he could see.

Red.

So blinded was he by hatred and fury that a crimson mist had descended over his eyes.

He was a machine of destruction, hell-bent on making every Marine pay a million times over for the pain he had endured.

He loved the killing. He reveled in it. During every fatal stroke, every lethal blow, every life he took, he laughed demonically. Ripples of pleasure spread through him each time an enemy heart stopped beating. It sustained him; it drove him.

Red…

He knew that he was probably bleeding from countless wounds, but he didn't care. He knew that his body would not fail from loss of blood. He could not stand losing to his enemies. He would much rather be dragged down to hell with his foe than lose.

Red… black? Orange, yellow?

The blood-colored mist clouding his vision seemed to dissipate. His breath came in wet gasps. He didn't feel tired. He could still go on. He didn't need to go on. Why didn't he need to go on?

Colors… Many, many colors…

Damien sucked in an enormous gasp of air, as if he had been drowning. He had been, in blood. His chest heaving with exertion, he shook his head, trying to clear his mind of that ghastly madness. His thirst for bloodshed, for carnage, for slaughter remained unslaked. He wanted to find more enemies and tear them to shreds. He had trained ceaselessly to be faster and stronger and tougher than anyone. He would not stop until his enemies were eradicated.

Still, emerging from his berserk rage meant the Marines were dead. A cough brought a spray of blood from his mouth, but he paid it no heed. His entire body sung with pain, but he had long since gotten used to it. He yanked a sword out of his shoulder and melted it in his fist. Molten metal dripped onto the ground as he stumbled forward. Bones crunched beneath his bare feet, but his weight kept him from slipping in the viscera covering the ground.

He lazily chewed on a half-melted bullet as he dazedly turned towards the main base. He knew Songbird and the two crazy women were fighting the bastard Marine commodore. An orange glow radiated from the glass panes at the top of the dome, which was odd, because he didn't remember any weather involving orange glows. He frowned and cocked his head to the side, realizing that the glow was flickering. Like fire. How strange…

A sudden wave of dizziness struck him, and he staggered to the side. The hand he put out to stabilize himself punched straight through the wall. He stumbled clear through, rolling onto the floor. Blood splattered everywhere, most of it not his own. Groaning, he shifted and pulled a bent sword from his back. He yanked too hard, breaking the blade off in his back. After clumsily clawing at the blade, he settled for melting it as well. The spread of blood across the floor increased.

Crazed laughter erupted from his throat, echoing through the empty hallways. He loved this. He loved the feeling after a good fight where his body was slipping from his control. It meant he had pushed his limits and fought a good enemy. He was tempted, so tempted to drift off. However, he knew there was one left. He flicked his fingers out, razor-sharp talons unsheathing to cover his regular nails, and slammed his hand into the undamaged portion of the wall. It took him a few tries to find purchase instead of just tearing large sections out, but he eventually managed to pull himself to his feet.

As he limped along, he could feel himself teetering on the brink of consciousness. His vision was flickering, and he kept momentarily losing his balance. However, he knew the limits of his body. He could take more punishment, more damage, more anything. He would not be stopped until every Marine was exterminated. So long as he was alive, Marines were going to die.

He stumbled around a corner and found himself face-to-face with a quivering boy barely half his age. He couldn't have been more than a recruit. Damien's lips drew back, exposing his vicious metal teeth, and he growled loudly. The young Marine shrieked and scrambled backwards, nervously clutching his rifle. He kept retreating as Damien advanced, his pace accelerating as his fury grew from a simmering fire to a blazing inferno. His body burst into flame, and he gave a roar that shook plaster from the walls.

"Go away!" the Marine screamed as he blindly fired his rifle. The bullets burrowed into Damien's skin, but couldn't penetrate his dense flesh. Damien bulled forward, still roaring loudly. The recruit's final bullet caught him in the forehead, but just deflected off his metal skull. He had never stood a chance.

Damien didn't even bother to lash out, simply crashing the boy into a wall. He continued his charge heedlessly, trampling the broken body underfoot as he plowed directly through the labyrinthine base. He eventually slowed to a stop as he realized he had deviated from his course. Even while inside the base, he could feel the cardinal directions in his bones. He knew which direction the main room was in. However, he saw a flicker of movement back the way he came. This base never seemed to run out of Marines. That was fine with him.

He flexed his toes, extending ten more claws. He lowered himself until his hands rested in the ground. He exploded forward, a smoking crater marking his departure point. His claws helped him gain purchase on the slick floors. He bounded forward on all fours, careening towards that motion he had seen. His dreadlocks temporarily obscured his vision as he whipped his head to and fro. Thunder rumbled in his throat as his displeasure grew. He would not be satisfied until these fuckers were all dead.

When he emerged into the moonlight, he found his target. Another straggler was trying to run for her life. He would have none of that. He pounced on top of her like a wolf, dragging her to the ground. She struggled mightily, but he yanked her head back to expose her neck. He bit down and ripped out her throat with a jerk of his head. With one mighty pull, he separated her head from her body. He tossed the mutilated corpse aside as another bout of mad laughter overcame him. He faced the heavens and howled gaily at the sky. He threw his arms apart, and a large explosion shook the area.

This was his domain. He had rid his land of invaders.

There was only one left.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Captain…" A voice drifted down into her consciousness. "Captain…"

All she could manage was a faint moan.

"Captain!" She felt something squeeze the wind from her lungs, but she could do nothing to free herself. "You're alive!"

"Won't be for long, the way you're strangling her," another voice panted.

She opened her eyes slowly, but quickly shut them again. Everything was so bright. Her second attempt was more successful, though the light still pained her. The pressure on her torso turned out to be Lyn's tight embrace. Groaning, she gently pushed the first mate, and Lyn immediately let her go. Looking around, she saw that the fields around her were ablaze. She turned her attention back to the woman in front of her, who was staring at her tearfully. "Are you okay Captain?"

"Of course she's not okay," Alexander snorted. "Forgive me for saying, Captain, that that was one of the most foolhardy acts I have ever seen."

She saw that, despite his words, he was looking as grateful as Lyn. "We're all alive. That's what matters. Give me my shirt."

Alexander looked confused. "Shirt?"

With a pained grimace, she managed to push herself into a sitting position. She put a hand to her chest to prevent her backless shirt from completely falling off. She couldn't help but smile at how quickly he gave her a shirt and turned away. She switched her ruined clothing with her wet one as she looked around for Commodore Slatch. Her back was still throbbing with pain, so she chose not to enhance her senses. She knew his approximate location, but she couldn't hear his heartbeat or ragged breathing.

She decided to deal with him in a moment. "Great job, Alexander."

"I humbly disagree, Captain. You still got hurt."

"Wounds heal. This won't stop me." Alexander, on the other hand, looked even worse than before. He was on the verge of passing out. "Lyn, you can see him now. Stay with him. No arguments. I'm done playing. Slatch is mine."

The once picturesque room was bathed in a hellish light. Some of the fires had died out, but most of the grass still burning. Cassandra strode fearlessly along the flames. The smoldering wasteland reminded her of the rest of the desolate island. The crunch of dead, brittle grass beneath her feet was exactly the same as the crunch from outside. The intense heat and thick smoke didn't bother her in the least.

When she reached Slatch's last known location, she saw that he had left. She ran a finger through the blood and rubbed it against her thumb. The flames hadn't managed to dry the blood. Slatch couldn't have gotten far. She tried to find him, but the smoke filled her nose and obscured her vision. "Where are you, Slatch?"

"Be damned, infidels!" She let out rounds towards his voice, but only a few found their mark. "Tri-Levin Blast!"

Lightning exploded into life in the black clouds above, growing bigger and bigger. Cassandra ran as far away from any trees as she could before crouching down and rising on the balls of her feet. She could feel the sizzling electricity as her hair stood on end. Then, all at once, an explosion and an earsplitting yell rent the air. Cassandra continued crouching until it registered that she wasn't dead. She instantly ran to Lyn and Alexander, praying they had moved away from the tree Alexander had been resting against.

She arrived to see that both of them were gone, which was a good sign. She followed their tracks through the grass, going almost in the same direction she had come from. She was surprised how quickly they had moved, considering Alexander's exhaustion. Knowing approximately where they had gone, Cassandra decided they could wait. She veered away from their trail and dislodged a throwing knife from its holster. The smoke hadn't decreased, but she had a good idea where Commodore Slatch was.

Sure enough, the Marine was slumped against the wall. He barely moved, but he still drew breath. She walked right up to him, but he barely acknowledged her presence. She grabbed the front of his robes and hauled him up, slamming him against the wall. She waited until he met her gaze to drive her knife into his eye. As he gurgled his last, she brought her mouth to his ear. "For my crew."

She wiped her knife on his robes before letting him fall to the floor. She holstered her weapon as she walked over to Lyn and Alexander. To her surprise, they were both huddled by a large hole in the wall. As she waved the dust aside, she saw why they were here. Damien had broken through the wall and was sprawled along the ground, sparks of electricity still occasionally flickering across his blood-covered skin.

"He saved us," Alexander whispered. "He diverted all three lightning strikes and took them upon himself." He looked up, his eyes swimming with tears. "He saved us!"

Cassandra looked at the body while Lyn put her arm around Alexander's shoulders in comfort. "He did, but you're right. He is one tough bastard." The pirate captain could barely believe it herself. "He's alive."

* * *

Welp, that was fun. Until next time.

**I am currently rewriting this story to make it better. This is as far as I've gotten.**


	7. The Intruiguing Island

And, after many internetless weeks, the seventh chapter is written and uploaded. Cassandra killed a Marine Commodore, Lyn did... nothing really, Damien took on over five hundred Marines and recieved three lightning bolts to the chest, and Alexander had the satisfaction of watching the death of the man who destroyed practically everybody and everything he loved. And shown that he has some pretty awesome abilities. So, without any further ado...

Well, I have to say that I don't own Once Piece. And I have to commend CaptainBadger for being amazing, both as a writer and as a constructive critic.

_Now_, without any further ado... the seventh chapter.

* * *

Alexander sat resolutely beside his friend in the belly of the _Howling Knave_. He stared down at the still form that was swathed in bandages and still barely alive. A flux of emotions rushed past him, though he didn't take the time to register them all. Instead, he thought back to the aftermath of that fateful day, where instead of idolizing pirates, he had become one.

"_So now what?" Lyn asked, standing up and sheathing her ornate rapier._

"_Get him back to the ship," Cassandra said shortly. _

"_And how do you propose to do that?" Alexander sighed wearily. "I doubt we'll be able to drag him at all."_

"_Why?" Lyn grabbed one of Damien's arms and heaved, getting an answer to her question. Panting, she dropped the appendage and panted, "How much does he weigh?"_

"_And do you really expect I know the answer?" Alexander mumbled. _

"_We'll use rollers," Cassandra stated, searching about for round bits of anything. _

_Her eyes widened as she beheld the ghastly scene in front of her. Fire liberally covered the ground, crackling and popping as corpses burned to ashes. She wanted to retreat from the awesome heat, but some of the nearby bodies caught her attention. Two of them had been pulverized, rendering them completely unidentifiable. But the others were ripped apart with such brutality that even she, who fancied herself as cold-blooded when it came to killing, felt slightly uncomfortable at the sight._

"_Find anything?" Lyn asked, coming up behind her._

_Cassandra started, knowing that if she felt uncomfortable, the much gentler woman would react much less favorably. "Lyn, could you do me a favor?"_

"_What is it?" she asked, thankfully looking directly at Cassandra. _

"_Could you patrol the coastline and make sure nobody's coming? If you see anybody, come back and shake my shoulder. We'll take your body back to the ship, so you can just meet us there."_

"_Okay," Lyn chirped brightly, not suspecting anything in the least. _

_She closed her eyes, a look of intense concentration on her face. Abruptly, she fell forwards, apparently having forgotten that she had not been sitting in a more stable position when her spirit left her body. Cassandra managed to catch her, gently setting her down against a wall. She turned back to the carnage outside, morbidly captivated once again._

"_I hope you won't shun him for it," Alexander muttered, catching her unawares. "He loves fighting, hates Marines, and has a short temper."_

"_Not the best combination," Cassandra replied, reprimanding herself for not paying enough attention to hear him coming up behind her._

"_Still, he's a great fighter-"Alexander began, a note of desperation in his voice._

"_Relax," she ordered. "I'm not gonna turn him away just because he's a mobile explosion waiting to happen. Mors knows we need a good fighter."_

_Alexander nodded gratefully. "Thank you. We'll serve you well… Captain."_

"_Belay that kind of talk," she grinned. "You're part of the Black Glove Pirates. Now get up and find some rollers or I'll leave you two here."_

Smiling at his captain's tactfulness, Alexander had eventually found a small, toppled colonnade (apparently, Damien had thrown three Marines through it) and turned the ends to water. Then with a superhuman feat of strength, the two had exhaustedly put the unconscious berserker and nun on the makeshift rollers and rolled them over to the _Howling Knave_. Using their last dredges of energy, they had shoved the pair through one of the cannon holes and set off, the sun throwing a few rays over the horizon. Since then, Alexander had tended his friend night and day, only eating and sleeping enough to keep himself alive.

Lyn spent most of her time drawing in the crow's nest or helping her captain, but she sometimes visited her fallen crewmember. She wasn't as depressed as Alexander was, but that was understandable. After all, she had only known him for a few hours. Nevertheless, she felt a twinge of empathy for the sacrifice he had made and made it her duty to stop by every once in a while to check up on his condition.

Cassandra had therefore been left with most of the tasks of the ship, such as navigating (which she was okay at), cooking (which she was okay at), and taking care of the ship (which was slowly falling into disrepair). She had also been resting in the women's quarters, just laying on her expansive bed and thinking about whatever entered her mind.

This continued on for a few days, with no change from Damien or any sight of an island. Food was starting to run low, so Cassandra started making bland lunches to save for decent dinners. The crew didn't complain; they simply acted as if they were receiving full meals each day. They were all losing heart when something unexpected happened.

Lyn, whose turn it had been to be lookout, was roused from her sleep with a bump. She nearly fell out of the crow's nest, but managed to regain her balance at the last second. She looked at the beach she had crashed into and thought, all things considered, that they were reasonably lucky. She frowned slightly, picking up the faint smell of breakfast cooking. She scampered down the rigging as Cassandra came on deck.

"I am never putting you on watch duty again," Cassandra mumbled, nursing a large bump on her head.

Lyn grinned guiltily and shrugged. "Where are we anyway?"

"Well, according to the map, we're at Fascrion," Cassandra answered. "Not one of the most politically important island in West Blue, so I've never heard of it."

"Neither have I," Lyn said. "Then again, I never paid much attention to the lessons the nuns had taught me unless they were about real interesting stuff."

"Which rules out a lot," Cassandra said.

Lyn smiled sheepishly. "Anyway, what do we do now?"

"Go find a doctor."

"Yeah, Damien's gonna- Alexander!" Lyn exclaimed. "What're you doing up here?"

"Telling you to go find a doctor," Alexander droned. "Now go."

"All right, all right, we're going," Lyn said quickly. "C'mon, Captain, let's go."

Cassandra nodded and jumped off the ship. She looked up at the man leaning on the railing. "You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah," he called back down. "Though your ship might take a couple blows if somebody attacks."

"Rule Number One of the Black Glove Pirates: No destroying the ship!" Cassandra shouted.

"Go already!"

Cassandra rolled her eyes and scanned the island. The beach went on for a bit, then gave way to a green-brown flatland. Plants grew aplenty and copious amounts of insects buzzed incessantly. A thin road, a lighter brown than the rest of the ground, stretched into the distance, meeting a peculiar line in the distance. She narrowed her eyes, focusing on the distant line. It protruded from the ground with peculiar uniformity, almost like a wall. She decided that that was the most likely place for civilization and began heading in that direction.

"This place feels like a graveyard," Lyn idly commented. "I don't know why, but it just feels that way."

Cassandra nodded in agreement, but otherwise didn't respond. Lyn gave a huff of indignation and fell silent, her bored gaze meandering around the island. Soon, sand gave way to packed dirt as they left the beach and the _Howling Knave_ behind. A foul smell hung in the air, brutally invading Cassandra's nose. She quirked her mouth in irritation as she tried to identify the pungent odor. This all looked extremely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it…

"Oh, Captain, look!" Lyn squealed, pointing at a cluster of iridescent flowers not too far from the road. "They're so pretty!"

Cassandra's eyes widened as her first mate approached the edge of the road. "Lyn, don't! It's-"

But the former nun paid her no heed. Before she had finished her sentence, the woman's foot had landed heavily on the green-brown land and had gone clear through. With a yelp, she fell forwards, throwing up her arms as she did so. Cassandra shot forwards, barely managing to grab hold of a pale hand, which was now the only visible part of the woman. She dug her heels in and managed to halt the woman's descent. Lyn's other hand emerged, slapping ineffectually at the surface and causing a multitude of small ripples to radiate outwards. It eventually found Cassandra and seized her wrist in a vice grip. Cassandra leaned backwards, trying her best to pull out her drowning crewmember.

After a few very long seconds, Lyn's head emerged and she gasped for air, deeply inhaling the acrid fumes. She blindly turned in Cassandra's direction and, after spitting out a mouthful of vile liquid, gasped frantically, "What is this?!"

"Focus on getting out of there first," Cassandra growled through gritted teeth, trying her best to heave her first mate onto solid ground.

Lyn nodded and pulled as hard as she could, slowly raising herself up and out. After almost a minute, the two women collapsed on the road, their chests heaving with exhaustion. She wiped some putrid muck out of her eyes and nose, looking extremely disgusted as she did so. "So, what the hell is this?"

"This, dear Lyn, is a swamp," Cassandra said, pushing herself into a sitting position. "And a particularly vicious one at that."

"A swamp? How do you know?" Lyn inquired.

"The air smells of sulfur," Cassandra responded. "And, if you notice, the quote-unquote _land_, or at least, what looks like land, is uniformly even, except where the plants have grown."

"I see," Lyn said, still panting heavily. "I guess that's why it feels like a graveyard, huh?"

"I'd assume that many innocent travelers have wandered in here and met their early demises, yes," Cassandra said, wiping slime from her wrist and standing up. "Let's head back to the ship and get you cleaned up."

"I'm fine," Lyn muttered, disgustedly trying the rub as much of the mud off as possible. "Let's just keep going."

"Let me rephrase that," Cassandra said. "If you don't head back to the ship, you'll probably die due to the amount of toxic chemicals swishing around in your mouth at the moment. But if you want to keep going…"

Cassandra let out a laugh as Lyn hightailed it back to the _Howling Knave_, spitting every few seconds as she ran. Sighing amusedly, Cassandra followed her back to the ship. When she got there, she saw that a set of muddy footprints leading directly to the trapdoor and sighed again. She followed the footprints down to the medical ward, shaking her head and chuckling. "Lyn, you know you'll have to clean up all this mess."

"As long as I'm alive in five minutes, I'll do it," Lyn shot back before turning to Alexander. "Now how the hell do I keep myself from dying?"

Alexander raised a single eyebrow, looking from one woman to the other in confusion. Cassandra, managing to quell her amusement, explained the situation, finishing with, "I don't know much about medical stuff, so I was wondering if you do."

"Trust me, I know a fair amount about how to keep somebody alive," Alexander said with a grin. "After all, I've had to keep Hothead alive and that's a 24-7 chore."

"What do you mean?" Cassandra asked, ignoring the frantic gestures Lyn was making.

Alexander reached out and peeled a layer of white cloth off of the unconscious pirate's ribs. Cassandra leaned in, noting that Lyn had ceased her antics to pay attention as well. They stared in astonishment at Damien's body. A long red slash cut across his chocolate-colored skin, with a smaller cut vanishing into the bandages on either side. A small bullet hole lay directly over a rib, showing the slug crushed against the metal bone underneath. However, these wounds were not what captivated the female pirates.

Instead, they could make out a myriad of hair-thin lines crisscrossing his skin, obviously much older than the incident a few days ago. Cassandra could make out the corner of a much more grievous injury and felt the perverse need to examine it more closely. "May I see the rest of him?"

"Sure," Alexander said tiredly. "His bandages need to be changed anyway."

He reached over and began slowly unwrapping his friend from his bandages. Grunting with exertion, he heaved, barely managing to lift up Damien's arm and unwrap the bandages from there. He repeated this process several times, causing Cassandra to wonder how long this endeavor took each time he did it. It must be taxing on the young man, for Damien's bandages needed to be changed every hour or so. "Here," she said finally. "Let me help."

Cassandra, ever since she was old enough to kill, had had a pair of throwing knives tucked into each short sleeve. They were both no longer than her handspan, but were unbelievably useful in a variety of situations, such as mirrors for looking behind her and around corners or handholds for scaling walls. With a quick flick of her shoulder, the knife slid out and gently landed on her forearm, point first. She fluidly continued the motion and twisted her arm, sending the knife hurtling into her palm. Her crewmembers glanced at her arm in surprise, but not a drop of blood had fallen.

She used the knife to carefully cut the bandages along his sides, which greatly sped up the process. Nodding thankfully, Alexander began peeling off the bandages with a new speed. Half turning to Lyn, he smiled and said, "Sorry to keep you waiting, mate. In the cabinet at the far end of the room, there should be some bottles and syringes. Take 5 cc's of sodium nitrite and inject it into your arm. That should counteract any of the toxin harming your body."

"You sound quite knowledgeable about all this," Cassandra said, impressed.

"That's just because I spend my spare time reading that book," Alexander said, gesturing at a thick tome propped up against the leg of the bed. "My usual method of healing doesn't quite encompass all of this medical shit."

"And what is your usual method of healing?" Cassandra asked inquisitively.

Alexander began to answer, but by then, enough bandages had come off of Damien's body to see what had happened to him. Cassandra's mouth fell open as her eyes roved over the unconscious man. Lyn, looking pleased that she wasn't going to die after all, came over and began sputtering in amazement. Alexander nodded and peeled the last of the bandages away, looking sadly at his fallen friend.

"I've never seen so many scars in one place," Cassandra breathed, bringing a lantern closer so she could see more clearly. Covering almost every centimeter of skin was some sort of scar. The inordinate number of half-healed red gashes was astounding on its own. Thin slashes from knives and swords lay underneath the larger, recent wounds. Faint burn marks, probably only perceptible to Cassandra's keen eyes, covered his chest, which was slightly odd. A faded ring of teeth marks crept over most of his left hand, like some wild animal had tried to take a bite of him. Countless other barely-visible, unrecognizable scars littered his form, telling a story too terrible to tell.

It looked like some horrific tapestry, spreading over his body, curling across his neck, flooding down his arms.

However, something drew Cassandra's attention away from the gruesome spectacle in front of her. "These newer cuts, they look deep, but mostly healed by now."

"I know," Alexander said, shifting uncomfortably. "His healing rate nearly doubled since we went to visit the shamans."

"Granted, his white blood cells might multiply abnormally quickly in his warmer body," Cassandra mused. "But it looks like it's more than that."

"It looks like none of 'em are gonna noticeably scar," Lyn piped up. "I mean, obviously they're gonna be visible, but you'll only see the true damage when he's not moving and in a bright enough light."

"And if you actually can get close enough without being perceived as a threat," Alexander mumbled. "Anyway, although I'm doing all I can, some worldly medical experience would be nice."

Noticing Alexander's odd choice of words, Cassandra nevertheless got up and gestured for Lyn to follow. "Okay, we'll be back as soon as we can."

Alexander waved good-bye and began re-wrapping Damien in bandages. "And try not to fall into any more swamps."

Lyn growled good-naturedly at him as she left the medical ward. As soon as they were on the beach, she sighed sadly and scuffed the sands with her toe. "Poor Damien, having to endure all that pain."

"Poor Damien?" Cassandra said skeptically as they crossed the expansive beach. "What about the hundreds of people that he… killed?"

"It was for revenge, which, isn't a good reason I know, but I can understand how he felt," Lyn conceded. "But me, I can't take a sword to a thunderstorm and try to murder it for killing my parents, can I?"

"I suppose not," Cassandra said with a grin.

"And what was with the pause?"

Cassandra quirked her mouth in irritation, having tried to minimize the hesitation as much as she could. "Well, killed is a very loose term to what he did at the Charred Island."

"What do you mean?" Lyn asked innocently.

"Well, it was more like he massacred them," Cassandra explained.

Silence. "What do you mean?"

"How about we focus on not trying to kill ourselves again, eh?" Cassandra said, not wanting to blacken any thoughts Lyn had about the new navigator.

Lyn sighed and decided not to point out Cassandra's obvious change of topic. The rest of the multi-hour trip down the road was spent in silence. Lyn occasionally paused to sketch a plant or an animal, but otherwise, the journey was uninterrupted. By the time they reached the brown line, twilight had fallen. The line turned out to be a massive wooden wall composed of enormous logs lined up on end and sharpened to points at the top. A large wooden gate separated the road from the town, looking as solid as the rest of the wall. Cassandra stared up at it, not at all impressed. "Go see if there's anybody inside."

Lyn nodded and closed her eyes, again forgetting that she was standing on uneven ground. So, when her soul left her body, she toppled backwards. Cassandra barely caught her in time before the woman fell into the swamp again. Clicking her tongue disapprovingly, she lay her first mate on the ground, sitting down beside the body. She absentmindedly glanced around, suddenly feeling slightly peckish. What she wouldn't give for an apple right now…

After a time, Lyn opened her eyes and stared up at Cassandra. "They're all huddled at the gates, just… waiting."

Cassandra grunted, standing up and dusting her pants off. "Hallo, up there!"

She could hear a frenzy of almost-concealed whispers erupt from atop the wall and patiently waited for an answer. After what seemed like a heated debate, one finally came. "Go away! Both of you!"

"Polite bastards, aren't they?" Lyn growled irritatedly.

"Now look," Cassandra shouted up. "We just want to know if you have a doctor that we could see."

"We haven't," the voice quickly responded. "Now go away."

"The hell you don't!" Lyn snarled.

"Lyn, don't make them angry," Cassandra murmured.

"Listen, you selfish low-lifes," Lyn hollered up. "You do so have a doctor in there! You have a proper hospital, with patients and everything!"

"You found this out and didn't tell me?" Cassandra hissed.

"Musta slipped my mind," Lyn said speedily, apparently not quite finished with her tirade. "Now open the gates, you lily-livered geezers!"

"Really not helping," Cassandra said in a sing-song voice, trying to get Lyn to listen.

"We have a crewman who's practically dead and we need help!" Lyn shouted.

"Better," Cassandra conceded. "But how do you expect us to get inside now that you've insulted the townfolk?"

"Didn't think of that," Lyn said offhandedly. "But I guess-"

"We'll let you in," a different voice called down.

"Excuse me?" Cassandra asked reflexively, not quite believing what she was hearing. "We're allowed in?"

"C'mon Captain," Lyn said, throwing an arm around Cassandra's shoulders. "Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Yeah, because it might bite your face off," Cassandra muttered as the enormous wooden gate began to creak open.

The town behind the opening gate looked as average and as ordinary as it possibly could, considering it was resting on a giant swamp. The log houses rested on sturdy stilts, which appeared to be constructed out of some sort of bamboo, sticking up from the muddy bog. The air was noticeably cleaner inside, though how this was achieved was anybody's guess. What intrigued Cassandra the most was the fact that there was absolutely nobody on the streets. Indeed, the only two people visible were the two pirates entering the town. Cassandra turned around and walked backwards, staring up at the gate. Although the walls had enough room for a man to walk or defend the town, there wasn't a soul in sight. "Where is everybody?" she asked, turning back around.

"They were here a second ago," Lyn said, staring around in confusion. "They were scrambling like crazy back into their homes."

"Must not like visitors," Cassandra muttered.

"Whatever," Lyn sighed. "Let's just get a doctor from the hospital over thataway and get back to the _Howling Knave_."

They headed over to the hospital, which was thrice as tall as most of the other buildings in the town. The lack of people was becoming more and more unsettling. This observation triggered something in Cassandra's memory, but when she tried to figure out what it was, the glimmer of a thought danced away and vanished. Cassandra growled in irritation, causing Lyn to look at her curiously. "Something the matter, Captain?"

"It's just… I know there's something about the villages this island we should be on the lookout for," Cassandra sighed, kicking the ground in frustration.

"Well, there's no use beating yourself up about it," Lyn said soothingly. "But it's getting late. Should we head back?"

"Since we can't use torches because we'd send the entire island up in flames, I don't think we can get back to the ship alive," Cassandra responded, referring to the dangers of traversing down a windy path through a deadly swamp at night. "Let's just find an inn or something and wait 'til morning."

"Like that one?" Lyn asked, pointing at a two-story wooden structure with the words 'FREE SHELTER AND BEDS' painted crudely over the door. The Rs were backwards and the paint was still dripping wet. Definitely not suspicious.

"Works for me," Cassandra said, walking over to the building and peeking inside. Like the rest of the town, it was completely deserted. "You know that we have to keep watch, right?"

"Hope you have fun staying awake," Lyn said, walking down the hallway and picking a random room to sleep in.

Cassandra opened her mouth to respond, but then remembered some of Lyn's past experiences with watching over things. "Fine, fine," she muttered. "Just get some rest, okay?"

"Got it," Lyn said, throwing herself haphazardly onto the bed. "Night, Captain."

"Good night," Cassandra murmured, leaning against the leg of the bed. She managed to steal one of the blankets to keep herself warm and looked around. There was nothing in the room except for the bed, an unlit candle with no matches, and a small book. So, she settled for reading by the moonlight seeping in through the window, which was merely a square hole in the wall. But as time went on, the moon drifted through the sky, moving her reading light. She was able to shift slightly alongside the bed to keep with the square of moonlight, but was eventually forced to give up. It was sometime after that that, despite her best efforts, her eyelids began to droop.

* * *

Well, there it is. I'd like to point out that swamp liquid and gas contain hydrogen sulfide, not just sulfur, but Cassandra's a pirate captain. She's not supposed to know absolutely everything.


	8. The Arrival of the Cavalry

Chapter props go to Hertz, both because of his pseudonym and because of his awesomeness.

* * *

Cassandra awoke with a start. Sunlight streamed through the window, nullifying all chances of waking up again. Ordinarily, she would have woken up slowly, enjoying the freshness, but two things were different. One was the fact that she was supposed to be on watch, so what was she doing in bed? Second was the fact that a barbaric-looking person was straddling her stomach, pressing something sharp into her neck.

"I'm gonna kill Lyn," she hissed to herself, staring fearlessly up at her attacker.

The mossy mask covering her assailant's face was set in an intimidating leer, curved animalistic teeth bared viciously. The clothes were covered in leaves, which would provide excellent camouflage if they were outside. She tried to glance down to see what was pressing against her neck, but her opponent's arm twitched, indicating that she should stay still.

"What do you want?" she asked.

For a moment, they merely stared at each other. Then the other person erupted into laughter, getting up and discarding the savage disguise. Shaking her black hair to get rid of the indent the mask's straps had left, Lyn gave an enormous grin and said, "So, whaddaya think of my costume?"

"What the hell was the point of that?" Cassandra shouted, leaping to her feet.

"It woke you up," Lyn said uncaringly, hopping from the bed. "C'mon, let's go find a doctor."

"Hold on, Lyn," Cassandra ordered. "I'm not gonna let this slide!"

"Injured crewmember!" the first mate reminded her in a sing-song voice.

"Fine…" Cassandra growled. "But still, just wait for a second. There's something suspicious about this island."

"No, really?" Lyn drawled. "I thought that all islands had free bed 'n' shelters."

"Be serious for a minute!" Cassandra snapped as they strode outside. "I know there's something we have to be on the lookout for, but I don't remember what!"

"Would it have something to do with angry mobs with pitchforks?" Lyn asked casually.

Cassandra's head shot up. Just as Lyn said, a ring of villagers surrounded them and the building, armed with seemingly anything they could get their hands on. "Thanks for telling me ahead of time," Cassandra murmured as she spun around, standing back-to-back with the grinning first mate.

"I'm getting better, aren't I?" Lyn said cheerfully. Cassandra could feel the woman's hand go to her rapier and took the hint, putting her own hands to her pistols.

"What do you want?" she asked the crowd.

A wizened old man stepped forward, his walking stick making light tapping noises as it hit the dirt road. "We wished you to leave, but you would not. Now, you must die. I am sorry," he added apologetically as the pair of women gave cries of alarm. "The contents of our village must remain a secret from the other towns and we cannot run the risk of you both disclosing our secrets."

"We promise we won't!" Lyn shouted.

Cassandra held up her hand, showing that she wished to speak. "Then why did you let us in here in the first place?"

The man nodded and began slowly circling them, analyzing them from all angles. "You may think me to be an old fool, ignorant of the outside world. However, I am anything but. You see, I know for a fact that there is an island, not too far from here, where the nuns have learned to cast their spirits from their bodies. I have no doubt that one of you has the aforesaid ability, though I cannot fathom why they would let an obviously hostile and violent woman become a nun."

"And, since I'm a holy woman, how about I swear on my oath that I won't tell a soul about your village?" Lyn proposed.

"This was the best way for us to martial our forces for an attack," the man rambled on, disregarding her. "So, I'm afraid you must die."

"Can't we talk about this?" Cassandra asked, trying to reason with him.

"No, no," the man sighed, shaking his head. "I'm afraid my decision is final. Good bye."

Completely ignoring the surrounding mob, Cassandra snapped her fingers as she remembered that was odd about the island. "That's right! This island is known for being both inanely volatile towards the other inhabitants and intensely xenophobic!"

"Yeah-huh," Lyn grunted, indicating that she obviously wasn't paying attention to what Cassandra was saying.

"Fine, then," Cassandra growled, yanking out her pistols and holding them in plain sight. "Let's just get out of here."

And with that, the mob charged.

Cassandra sprinted forwards, but Lyn, showing her superior strength, raced ahead and easily vaulted onto the heads of the tightly packed mob. Using their skulls like stepping stones, the former nun easily made her way over the crowd and to the other side. Unfortunately, Cassandra couldn't perform such a feat. She didn't like the odds stacked against her, so she quickly decided to do something else. Leaping over to the old speaker, she grabbed him in a tight headlock and placed a pistol to his temple. "Nobody move or the leader gets it!"

"I'm not the leader," the old man wheezed. "I'm merely one of the villagers. The true leader knew you would try something like this, so he came prepared."

Not wanting to murder an innocent citizen, Cassandra pushed him roughly aside and mentally scanned her options. There weren't many. "Lyn!" she yelled, hoping that the woman would hear. "Get Alexander and send him here! And, don't stand here and argue with me, just do it!"

She barely heard Lyn's shout of acknowledgment before she was quickly surrounded by the angry mob. She shrieked in pain as a multitude of pitchforks stabbed into her body, pitch from torches was ground into her skin, and spades left enormous bruises and crushed bones behind. Her last thought as she fell deeply unconscious was that all would be well once her musician arrived.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Alexander!" Lyn screamed as she ran towards the _Howling Knave_. "Get out here now!"

Using a cannon flap as a foothold, she vaulted aboard the ship and burst into the medical ward. Alexander, who was just finishing wrapping his friend in a new set of bandages, looked casually up at her. "What is it now? Do you need another dose of medicine?"

"YouneedtorescuetheCaptain!" Lyn ranted, completely disregarding the jibe. "Shesintroublesogohelpher!"

Alexander was silent for a moment, slowly waving his finger in the air and mouthing words as he mentally deciphered what Lyn had just said. "Fine, fine. Where am I supposed to go?"

"Followtheroad!" shouted Lyn, practically picking the musician up and punting him up the stairwell.

"Look after Damien for me!" Alexander yelled as he vanished into the sunlight.

Satisfied that the alchemist would be able to free Captain from whatever trouble she was in, Lyn decided to take Alexander quite seriously: she stared at the sleeping man. Her fingertips lightly traced his jaw, feeling his abnormal warmth seep through the white bandages. He yawned, showing his unusually large canines, and shifted slightly. Lyn tentatively poked him in the nose, seeing as how that was one of the few portions skin not covered in either bandages or recent wounds. She withdrew her hand and rubbed her finger with her thumb, feeling his heat slowly seep away. She poked him again, this time eliciting a wrinkling of the nose.

After prodding him a third time, he lazily opened his jaws and pushed his head back. Her eyes widened at this and she sharply removed her finger just as his razor-sharp teeth snapped together. She stared at her finger, grateful that it was still attached to her hand. Sighing, she knew that if she stayed there, she would most definitely grow bored, so she climbed up the stairs to the deck. After looking inland and seeing the musician stride purposefully down the road, she turned to the task at hand.

She walked over to the galley and opened the door, searching for her drawing utensils. Not finding them, she closed the door and turned to the left. On either side of the galley and right next to the railings, two staircases rose, giving access to the women's quarters. After energetically jumping up the aforementioned stairs, she glanced at the other pair of staircases, which were practically an extension of the first two flights of stairs, leading up to the poop deck. Instead of ascending those stairs, she walked along the balcony to the women's quarters.

She peeked inside. The room was moderately clean, as Cassandra liked order aboard the ship but didn't obsess over it. A thick rug covered the floor, vanishing under the bookshelves, desks, wardrobes, and beds. After taking a quick pit stop in the bathroom at the rear of the room, she found her paper and charcoal underneath her own unmade bed. Grinning with delight, she ran back outside, vaulting over the railing of the balcony and landing on the deck.

After descending back into the white medical room, she pulled up a stool and sat resolutely on it, studying the badly scarred features in front of her. She quickly drew an outline of his head, then scrunched up her attempt and threw it over her shoulder. She tried again, and this time got to the eyes before crumpling that sheet up as well and throwing it over her shoulder. Deciding to do the eyes last, she began drawing a third time. She worked furiously, not caring about anything but her drawing. Time waited patiently for her to let up, but eventually grew bored and passed her by. The ship shuddered as a particularly strong wave hit it, but she paid no heed to her surroundings.

Finally, after an indecent amount of time, she sat up straight, hearing the bones in her back creak in protest. She swiveled her neck and flexed her fingers, feeling every joint crack and pop. Smiling happily, she gazed down at her masterpiece. As always, she was never amazed with her work. It simply came naturally to her. The sketch looked like it could come to life. Staring hard at the charcoal lines, she could picture the colors she would paint if she could, had she any colored paint. The pinkish tinge touching the bandages at places, the dark brown of his dreadlocks, the only slightly lighter brown of his skin, the ivy green in his crazed eyes…

She froze, looking at the paper in her hand. She knew that she went into a kind of spell while she was drawing, but she never painted something that wasn't there (excluding her dreams). So if she had drawn his face and his eyes were open in her drawing… she cautiously peeked over the edge of her drawing and found that she was staring directly into the eyes of an awake, albeit sleepy-looking, Damien.

"Hi," she said quietly, feeling a strange tightening sensation in her chest. _Fear_, she told herself.

Damien merely stared at her, his penetrating eyes never leaving her face.

"How do you feel?" she inquired, still fearing to speak loudly.

Silence.

"I'm Lyn, in case you forgot," Lyn mumbled. "I'm your first mate. Of the ship, I mean. I'm the first mate of the ship. And you're the navigator of the ship, so I'm…" she trailed off, knowing that there was no possible way of mending her sentence.

Still no response.

"You've been asleep for days," she continued, feeling the need to fill the quietness. "Captain and I visited when we could, but Alexander's been by your side the entire time. Well, he's obviously not here now, because Captain's in trouble, but-"

"Did we win?"

Frowning, Lyn tried to figure out what he was talking about. Eventually remembering that the last thing he probably saw was three lightning bolts about to barbecue him, she smiled and said, "Yes. We won."

"Good," Damien muttered, closing his eyes. Lyn thought that he was about to fall asleep again when he opened his mouth. "So Songbird an' I are fuckin' pirates now?"

"Uh-huh."

"And our shi'y Cap'n's in trouble?" he inquired.

"That's right," Lyn said.

"Fan-fuckin'-tastic," he grumbled. Lyn was about to ask why, but he heaved himself into a sitting position, provoking new questions.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"'Elpin' out Cap'n," he groaned as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and planted his feet on the floor. "If she needs sum fuckin' 'elp, there's gotta be some 'eads fer me t' crack."

"I don't think that's a good idea," Lyn said.

He stood up, swaying heavily from side to side. He glanced back at her and gave a tired, devilish grin. "I don' give a fuck 'bou' good ideas."

"We really should talk about this," she announced, following him up the stairs.

"Fuck talkin'. There's figh'in' t' be done," he shot back.

"Look at you!" she exploded, vowing that she would make him see reason. "You're dressed only in bandages and pants, you have enough wounds on you to kill a small army, and you're probably still feeling the effects of the liter or two of painkillers running through your veins! You can't just go rampaging around like that!"

"No' like this…" He held out his arms to the side and closed his eyes. Smoke began to pour out from the bandages, and in no time, they were ashes on the ground. For some unexplained reason, his pants remained untouched. Glancing down at his numerous injuries, he raised an eyebrow and rumbled, "Cuntin' Marines..."

"And why did you feel the need to do that?" Lyn sighed. This man was almost as much of a whimsical person as she was.

"Couldn' move with those fuckin' things."

"For a reason!" Lyn reminded him. "And you still can't go anywhere like that!"

"Yer righ'," Damien consented, provoking a relieved sigh from Lyn. Then, after a short pause, "I'm fuckin' starvin'."

Lyn facefaulted. "That's not what I meant!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Help the Captain, help the Captain," Alexander repeated as he strolled up the dust-ridden path. "Why do I have to help the Captain? Huh, she probably needs me to free her or something. Honestly, if we have to do this all the time…"

He halted in front of the gigantic wooden gate and stared up at the top. "I'd knock, but I doubt the consequences would be all that favorable. Eau… Magie."

A small door-sized section of wood morphed into water, which was greedily devoured by the dust covering the road. He ducked through it, peering cautiously around. Seeing nobody, he was about to emerge when he heard a familiar voice whisper, "Psst! Alexander! Over here!"

He adjusted his glasses and looked around, trying to find where the voice was coming from. A small movement caught the corner of his eyes and he turned slightly. He saw his Captain beckoning at him from under a building, where she had been hiding between the bamboo stilts. Sighing, he walked calmly over and crouched down, staring down at her. Her clothes were in tattered shambles, which didn't surprise him for some reason, and she was covered in swamp muck. So, he settled for asking, "What're you doing down there?"

"Get out of there, you imbecile!" she hissed, seizing him by the tie and dragging him unceremoniously out of the sunlight. "You could be seen!"

Having flown face first into the murky swamp, Alexander floundered helplessly about, waving his arms and legs emphatically. Cassandra managed to right him, apologizing profusely while simultaneously trying not to laugh. Alexander blinked owlishly at her, which was quite a feat considering the fact that he was covered head to foot in putrid sludge. He removed his glasses; Cassandra had to struggle even harder not to burst out into laughter. His dark brown eyes were surrounded by light circles of skin where his glasses had been a moment before, giving him a raccoon-like appearance when compared to the green-brown goop covering the rest of his face. Alexander saw her attempts to quell her amusement and scowled ill-temperedly at her. "And what, may I ask, was the purpose of that?"

"Y-you were in the sunlight," Cassandra managed to say. "And if we get caught again, we're screwed."

"Fantastic," he grumbled, staring down at his ruined suit. "This'll never come out. You're just lucky I didn't swallow any, else I'd be dead a lot more quickly than you might think. And how do you know this shit won't drain my Devil Fruit powers? Shouldn't I not be in still liquid?"

"Nah, it's fine," Cassandra said dismissively. "Don't ask me how I know," she added before he could say a word.

"Well, unless I need camouflage, I'm going to take this off," he muttered, turning his back to Cassandra.

"Please do," she responded, shrugging off her own shredded outer shirt. "Here, you can put this on."

"Thanks, Captain," Alexander said sardonically. "It'll be useful for cleaning off my glasses. Just tell me why _I_ had to come here."

"Because you're the only one who can break me out of here without being easily caught," she answered. "If I try to climb over the wall, I'd be sighted before I got halfway up. And, because I can't teleport, you're the man for the job."

"I'm thrilled," he drawled. "So now what?"

"On the count of three, we break for the gate," she murmured. "One… two… three!"

Before she could move a muscle, Alexander spun around, somehow slapping cleanly through the bamboo supports holding up the house. She looked at him as if he were crazy and began clambering out into the sunlight. "Captain, no!" he shouted, grabbing her boot and yanking her back under the building. Just in time too, for sharpened stakes and garden tools fell like rain where Cassandra would have been a moment later.

"How'd you know they would do that?" she asked.

"I saw a man looking at us strangely when I walked in here," he replied. "Now I just need a few more…"

He threw his hand against another strut. This time, Cassandra could see that he wasn't destroying it, he was turning the bamboo around his hand into water. She stared in amazement as the building sagged down, falling forwards in time to prevent another volley of projectiles from impaling them. Well, a single spike managed to slip past the corner and slammed into Cassandra's arm, but she gritted her teeth and yanked it out. Alexander hadn't noticed.

Suddenly, a thought struck her. "Okay, now how do we survive with a building crashing down upon us?"

"Hmm," Alexander grunted, apparently just realizing that they were seconds away from being mashed into the floor of the swamp. Then, he put up his hands. "Eau Magie."

With an eerie series of creaks and snaps, the remaining supports gave way and the building crashed down upon them. A solid mass of water hit Cassandra in the head, though most of it was deflected by her hat. Looking around, she saw that they were protruding from the wooden floor, though swamp slime was beginning to seep across the wooden boards.

A faint curse attracted her attention. Looking sideways, she saw Alexander nursing his wrists, his face contorted in pain. He looked up at her, a forced smile creeping across his lips. "Didn't time it quite right."

"Get onto solid ground," she ordered, pulling herself into the floorboards. She then remembered that he probably couldn't do it on his own and turned to help him. After a few tugs, the swamp relinquished its hold with a sickly _squelch_. He nodded thankfully up at her and collapsed on the floor, ignoring the muck crawling past his pained expression. His portly chest heaved with exertion and his wrists were turning a vicious reddish-purple and swelling.

"This didn't work out so well," he gasped.

"Yeah, this is really, really bad," she commented. "This wasn't supposed to happen. This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"Agreed," he panted. "This really wasn't how I expected to go."

"Oh, we're not gonna die," Cassandra said reassuringly.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Yet," she amended honestly.

"Well, they say your life flashes before your eyes," he mumbled as the house gave another jerk and sank a little more into the swamp. "And it's true. Right now, I can hear the screams and shouts of my friends as those bastard Marines destroyed the island."

"Alexander…"

"The clatter of weapons hitting the floor, explosions, and cannonballs slamming into solid stone," he sighed.

"Alexander…"

"And, last but not least-"

"Alexander!" she shouted, snapping him out of his reverie. "Pay attention!"

"What?" he asked tiredly.

"You're not reliving that moment," she said. "That's actually happening."

"…Huh?"

"The screams, the sounds, it's all going on outside!" she explained. "But what's going on?"

As if to answer her question, the front door was blown clean out of the doorframe, splinters spiraling majestically through the air. The door, and the body pushing the door through the air, flew between the two pirates, wood shattering as it hit the far wall. The old man let out a pained groan and fell to the floor, his eyes closing as he fell unconscious. Cassandra stared at him in shock. "I know that man," she muttered. "He was the figurehead, the decoy. The man who-"

"A pansy-ass Cap'n and' a fucked-up Songbird, sittin' in an 'ouse," a weary voice growled.

"No, no, no," a second voice chimed in. "It's 'lying on the floor'. That gives room to improvise with lyrics involving 'them wanting more' or something."

Alexander and Cassandra gave cries of shock as Lyn strode dramatically into the room and Damien lumbered in behind her.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

A small boat, more closely resembling a canoe, bumped into the island. One of its occupants gazed around, consulting the map clutched by the other person leaning against the side. "Fascrion. Judging by average sailing speed, you should be here…" The man, for his part, didn't move a muscle. Sightless eyes gazed straight up at the midday sun; his mouth was slightly open with shock.

The small craft shook slightly. After a long moment, a minuscule crab inched aboard, attracted by the smell of decaying flesh. Its stalked eyes glanced around, trying to find the source of its next meal. The only things it could see were an empty backpack and a sun-bleached corpse. Clicking its pincers happily, it scaled the clothes, stiff as boards from the salt left by evaporated sea spray, and crawled into the enormous cut spanning the man's neck.

* * *

I apologize for any confusion. This was an action-packed chapter, and the next one will only be more exciting. However, if you don't understand or were bamboozled by any of the events in this chapter, mention it and I'll try to get it fixed.


	9. Guardians of the Swamp

And, at long last, the ninth chapter is up! I'd like to thank my new beta, 0-5n4k3-0, for helping me and correcting some of the older chapters. I apologize for any grief I've caused any of you out there regarding the delay of this chapter.

Nota bene: The last chapter might have been unintentionally confusing, but this one is intentionally so. Cassandra isn't used to the chaos of a true brawl and she's focusing on multiple different people, so the descriptions might be unnaturally short.

* * *

"Damien!" Alexander shouted joyously, all exhaustion forgotten. "You're awake!"

"Fuckin' obvious?" Damien said, his green eyes roving about.

"It's good to see you up, Damien," Cassandra stated, willing to put aside their odd entrance.

"Always ready t' figh', shi'y Cap'n, no ma'er wha' I took las' battle."

"Look, can we just get outside?" Lyn asked. "I don't think Damien's weight is helping the building much."

"Good point," Cassandra said as the house sunk even lower into the swamp. "Let's move."

Alexander held up a finger, signaling that he wanted to be heard. "What about the pointy stuff falling from the sky?"

The other three gazed incredulously at him. "Ignoring how childish that sounded," Cassandra began. "I think Lyn and Damien have probably dealt with the preponderance of our troubles."

"And ignoring how complicated that sounded," Lyn piped up, eliciting a glare from Cassandra. "Let's haul ass now and talk later."

The pirates all nodded and ran out of the broken doorway. A paltry wave of sharp objects fell down upon them, but, as there were a great deal less of the projectiles, they were easily avoided or deflected. Bodies littered the ground, extinguished torches and shattered pitchforks surrounding them like wooden coronas. Cassandra also saw with some amazement that the entire front gate had been ripped off and was now sinking steadily in the swamp beyond. "You did that?" she asked Damien.

"Wan' no fuckin' problem," Damien responded.

"I reminded him that sulfur is flammable," Lyn chimed in. "If he had tried to burn the gate…"

"Well done," Cassandra complimented. "Way to use your head. For once."

"Hey!"

"Can we just run?" Alexander panted, growing fatigued already.

They had not gone three steps before something mildly unexpected occurred.

"Stop right there!" Six soggy forms appeared in their path, blocking the way out. They looked like swamp monsters, for lack of a better term. Globs of the viscous liquid dripped from their bodies and weapons. A pair of glowing red orbs looked out from every face, giving them an overall menacing appearance.

"Cool!" Lyn exclaimed, causing Cassandra to put her hand to her face.

"Th' fuck 're they supposed to be?" Damien asked. "Shitmen?"

"They're ordinary people covered in wooden armor with sludge for camouflage," Cassandra told them. "Don't get too excited."

The one in front stepped backwards in shock. "D-don't think that because you figured us out that you're going to win."

"I'm surrounded by morons," Cassandra muttered to herself. She put her hands to her pistols, frowning when she felt an unusual squishing sensation. Groaning, she stared at her sticky hands and clicked her tongue in irritation. "Listen up, Black Glove Pirates, I want you each to show me your fighting styles. In other words, just go and fight. Try not to think about the fact that I'll be analyzing you."

Simultaneous agreements and protests reached her ears.

"If we're going to survive when the enemies get tougher, I want to know how to best utilize your particular skills," she explained. She neglected to mention the fact that if she attempted to use her pistols, they wouldn't fire. Or the spark would ignite the flammable liquid and cause them to explode. She didn't want either result.

"Do I have to?" Alexander whined.

Cassandra glanced at his hands, which he had cradled against his chest to shelter them from further harm. "You can pass."

"More for me," Damien said with a grin, flicking out all twenty metal claws.

"You're still injured," Cassandra stated as Lyn drew her rapier. "You shouldn't be moving too much."

"Not my problem" he grumbled. "I'll take five of 'em."

"Three," Lyn shot back.

"Four," they compromised in unison.

And with that, they both stepped forwards to meet the men. The men, having patiently waited for the conversation to finish, lifted their weapons and walked forwards as well. The six stared at the two, leering down at them. "I must warn you, we are not to be taken lightly."

In response, Lyn's rapier flashed out, sticking in the gluey exterior. After jerking hard on the handle to no avail, she turned to Damien and frowned. "Maybe you can have five."

"Five wha'?" he responded with a demonic grin. Cassandra had watched as, with no degree of effort, Damien had taken out three of the men with a pair of devastating roundhouse kicks, leaving horrific gashes across their faces. He was now sitting on the fourth man, picking swamp muck out from underneath his toe-claws. "Ain' you finished?"

"I thought you were tired," Cassandra muttered to him.

"I'm always ready for a fuckin figh', cunt," he growled, eyeing the fifth man with a predatory glare.

Determined to prove herself, Lyn gave one frustrated yank, finally managing to free her rapier. Whipping out her string of beads, she dodged under the massive club and slammed the butt of her sword into the back of the man's helmet. Then, she looped the beads around his other wrist and, using the fist stuck against his head as leverage, she swung around him, twisting his arm behind his back. Forcing the beads around his neck to lock his arm in place, she stuck her fingers into the eyeholes in the helmet and pulled.

"Oh dear spirits; he has no face!" Lyn yelled.

"Can't you take anything seriously?" Cassandra shouted back. "He's just wearing a mask!"

Indeed, the man's head was entirely shrouded in black cloth. His glowing red eyes were a tad lower than most humans' eyes were, but this fact was irrelevant to the fight at hand. However, Cassandra did note that Damien was currently watching in amusement as his opponent tried to lift him off of his current victim. Why he wasn't fighting at the moment wasn't something she cared to find out.

"Why aren't you yelling at him to take things seriously?" Lyn asked, tugging her rapier free of her opponent's helmet.

"Because he's winning," Alexander piped up, reminding them all that he was watching as well. "And you're goofing off."

Lyn's retort was drowned out as her opponent roared angrily. Yanking her off his neck, he held her by the leg, leaving her dangling upside down. He shook the beads from his arm and, deflecting her wild swing with a bracer, twisted them into a noose. Her eyes widened as she saw what he was doing and began squirming furiously to get free. Then, just as he was about to strangle her with her own weapon, Lyn plunged her rapier forward, sticking into his unarmored armpit with a cry, "Taco de Billar!"

"Nice job, Lyn!" Cassandra praised. "The point is the most powerful-"

She sprang forward onto her hands, then pushed as hard as she could, slamming her feet into the person behind her attempting to perform sneak attack. Whipping out her pistols and gripping them by the barrels, she landed on her feet, spun around, and slammed the butts into her attacker's temples in a powerful scissor attack. "Ferramentum Putae!" The halberd fell to the ground as a seventh man, dressed in a brown cloth that matched the wood of the walls, stared at her in shock. "You will not sneak up on me so easily."

"Oh?" Cassandra spun around to see two men holding Alexander up between them. His glasses were lying in shattered pieces on the ground and a meaty hand was clamped over his mouth, muffling any warning he might have given. His eyes were shut in pain, for his wrists were being brutally squeezed by the pair.

"This isn't going well," she muttered.

Looking around, she saw that Alexander wasn't the only one faring badly. Lyn was currently bouncing around like a rubber ball, avoiding two men's fists as best she could, and a heavily bleeding Damien was being used as a punching target, though his arms were constantly deflecting each blow in his direction. Quickly doing the math, she concluded that the actual number of defenders was ten, not six. So, clearly, they held back in case their intended victims were stronger than expected. However, one observation in particular caught her attention. She prayed that she was correct as she turned back to Alexander's tormentors.

She was. There, strapped to one man's waist, lay a long rifle, looking loaded and ready for combat. Putting on an impressive burst of speed, she sprinted forward, kicked the man in the groin, and yanked the gun from his hip. Flicking her wrist to make sure the safety was off, she aimed it at her previous attacker. "Think you can take him, Alexander?"

"Certainly," came the reply from behind her. "Acier Magie!"

The battle quickly grew heated as the pirates stubbornly fought back. Cassandra wasn't a close-range fighter and the chaos surrounding her caused her extraordinarily acute senses to almost overcome her. Blood splattered across her face as a man let out a dying gurgle to her left. Hastily shooting a man before she was too overwhelmed, she turned around to locate her next victim. However, a man struggling mightily to free himself from his metal clothing fell across her path, distracting her temporarily.

"Bitch!" a familiar voice swore. "Diavolo Salamandra!"

A woman knocked Cassandra to the ground, a fist-shaped burn on her side. Flaming bits of shattered armor rained down around them. _Reign of Fire!_ echoed through her mind for a brief moment, but she pushed the thought aside. Shoving the woman off of her, she used the rifle to climb to her feet. She shot at a man, who unfortunately was the one whose clothing Alexander had turned into metal. The bullet deflected off into the road, burying itself in the dust.

"Taco de Billar!" "Swamp Spit!"

The two voices mingled as the two attacks were launched simultaneously. Lyn stumbled backwards into her captain, trying to wipe the sludge from her face. A guardian, after staring in shock at his destroyed gloves, picked up his mace and charged towards them. However, he tripped over the aforementioned metal-clad man Alexander had disabled and fell to the ground. Cassandra tried her best to help her first mate, but the mud was proving too sticky to be easily removed.

A man suddenly came up behind the pair, growling ominously. Cassandra tried to react, but the muck covering Lyn's face wouldn't release her that easily. Grinning, the man grabbed her hands and tore her away, instantly subduing her. Another brute lumbered forwards, easily trapping the still-blinded first mate. Alexander cried out in pain as a lithe woman twisted his wrists behind his back. Even Damien was suffering, blood pouring from his half-healed wounds from the Charred Island.

Struggling mightily to free herself, Cassandra let a single word rip out of her throat. "No!"

A searing shockwave knocked them all backwards a step. Damien, who had apparently snapped, was standing there, flames licking his muscled form. Darting forwards, he gave a primeval roar and drove his fist toward his current opponent. "Inces'-bred fuckfaces! Diavolo Salamandra!"

The explosion from the flaming knuckles colliding with the flammable swamp goop was enough for Lyn to shake herself free from her captor. "You will not hurt my friends! Taco de Billar!"

She slammed her rapier into her opponent's hand, pinning it to the ground. Then, with a powerful flip kick, she knocked the man backwards, carving his hand in half. After yanking out her rapier while in midair, she executed a tight backwards roll the moment she touched the ground, springing to her feet in an en garde position.

Alexander, not to be outdone, stomped on his adversary's foot. She released him, hissing in pain, but he wasn't finished. Whirling around, he bulled forwards, shouting, "You will not threaten my friends! Verre Magie!"

The woman let out a scream of pain as her clothes morphed into glass and shattered, cutting deep into her skin. Cassandra felt her own enemy's grip loosen in shock and quickly wrestled herself free. Smirking, she used the rifle to club him, forcing the hulking man backwards. "The worst move you ever made was to try to take on pirates," she told the defenders. "Ira Iunonia!"

She took half a second to locate each of the living guardians and spun around, pulling the trigger as fast as her finger would allow. Seven shots rang out with deadly precision, instantly killing seven defenders. However, she paused once she saw two men take cover behind Lyn and Alexander. Evidently, these men were trained to think quickly in high-pressure situations.

Glancing down at the rifle, she quirked her mouth in annoyance. "You people only have ten-round rifles… That causes a problem, now doesn't it."

"There are two of us," one of the men grunted unnecessarily. "And if you make a move, we'll kill your little friends, here."

Locking eyes with her seething navigator, she slowly spun her finger around in midair. "And you think that scares me?"

The hand gesture successfully gave the tribesmen the impression that she didn't care. Damien, who was supposed to read the hidden meaning, didn't move a muscle. She spun her finger around again, glaring at him insistently. The fighter's eyes narrowed and fell to the rifle hanging casually in her hand, signaling that he finally understood.

"You really are ruthless, aren't you?" the man sneered as Damien began slowly turning around.

"No," she said with a grin. "I need them to achieve my goal and they need me to survive. Plus, I've even grown to like them, when they're not being idiots. And when worst comes to worst, they're my crew and I'll do anything to protect them. Minervae Manica Nigra!"

And with that, she threw her arm out and fired her final bullet. A loud clang reverberated through the battleground and she watched, praying to the gods that she had calculated her shot just right.

When she saw blood erupt from the sides of both men's heads, she knew she had.

Lyn and Alexander dropped to the ground, staring at her in shock. "What did you do?" Lyn breathed.

"Saved yer asses," Damien growled, clutching his shoulder in pain. "Fuckin' 'ore…"

"But how?" Lyn asked.

Alexander, who had been staring around sightlessly, was gaping with amazement. "You calculated that in no time at all…"

"How do you even know what happened?" Lyn inquired. "Aren't you blind?"

Alexander glowered at her. "Just because I need glasses doesn't mean I can't see at all or tell what happened."

"Let's just get going," Cassandra ordered. "Lyn, if you really need to know, I'll tell you. But then you have to remain silent the entire rest of the way, okay?"

Lyn nodded. "Quiet as a mouse, Captain."

Cassandra sighed and began walking towards the gate. "I ricocheted the bullet off of Damien's metal shoulder blade and through both their heads."

"Amazing!" Lyn exclaimed, stooping down to pick up an object she had discarded before the fight had begun. Cassandra realized that she was now carrying a large burlap sack, but decided not to question her yet. Best to wait until they were not exhausted from combat.

However, the moment they stepped outside the gate, she ground to a halt and stared incredulously. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

* * *

The chapter is written, the deed is done.


	10. The Battle Wears On

Well, I finally got a break from my endless stream of schoolwork to finish this chapter. So I'll just let you read it without any stupid comments.

* * *

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

There, standing on the path, in the swamp, and even on each other, were rank upon rank of scantily clad men and women, each of them holding vicious-looking weapons.

"_Hell_ no," Alexander said, taking an involuntary step backwards.

"I'm with Alexander on this one," Lyn piped up. "There's no way we can take on that many."

As one, their heads all swiveled in Damien's direction. A pleased grin was spreading across his face as he scanned the scene in front of him. Cracking his knuckles, he glanced sideways at his crewmates. "Get in me way an' I'll bash yer fuckin' 'eads in."

"We won't," Cassandra told him, extending her arm.

He ran his tongue across his razor-sharp teeth and shook his limbs, preparing for the fight to come. He braced himself and took a deep breath, looking like he was about to explode. But before anything could happen, Cassandra darted out and lightly bopped him on the head with her pistol butt. "But no flames."

Damien turned and growled at her. "Pussy."

A hideous chuckle boiled up from his lungs and a crazed light glinted in his leaf green eyes. Bounding forward on all fours like an animal, he crashed into the army, scattering them like bleeding tenpins. Using the unsoiled inside of her pocket to clean her pistols, Cassandra glanced casually at Alexander. "Does he always do that?"

"Eh, he acts like he's possessed when he gets to fight a whole ton of people," Alexander responded, before adding with a note of sarcasm, "Thanks for pulling me into the swamp, Captain. This stuff's beginning to harden."

Cassandra looked down and realized that the slime covering her pants were beginning to solidify as well. Quirking her mouth in annoyance, she mentally weighed her options. In the end, maneuverability won out over modesty. After whipping out a knife and turning her jeans into shorts, she held her pistol up to her face, checking to see how clean she had gotten it. She noted with some pleasure that the pistol, while not being totally clean, had a decent chance of firing without injuring her. Taking aim at a nearby soldier, she sighed and pulled the trigger. "Hope this works…"

However, the gun did not fire as she wished it to. Her target died painlessly, a bullet through the center of his head, but the miniature explosion knocked her onto her rear. _Tch_ing in irritation, she stared at the sooty pistol and muttered, "Well, it should work now…"

"Have you noticed that Lyn's gone off as well?" Alexander asked.

Looking around, Cassandra saw that Lyn had indeed followed the navigator, screaming like a banshee and swinging wildly with her rapier. "What's your…"

She trailed off as she caught sight of Alexander's unusual appearance. He had managed to clean most of the muck from his face, but dark streaks still covered his features. It also clung persistently to his hair, causing it to stick up in spiky globs. However, his current state of dress is what caused her to raise an eyebrow in amusement. He had turned his jacket, pants, and socks into water, ridding himself of the hardened clothes. However, this only left him with his white collared shirt, which sported an interesting V of slime on his chest, his tie, his shoes, and a pair of colorful boxer shorts.

"Oh deal with it," he snapped upon seeing her barely contained laughter.

Straightening her face, she clambered to her feet and held up her pistol. "Exactly how tired are you?"

"Extremely," he answered laconically.

Cassandra nodded. "Stay as close as you can to me."

Whatever flippant reply he might have made was lost in the wind as she dashed towards the army, who had closed in behind the other pair in an effort to cut off their retreat. The fact they seemed to miss, however, was that neither pirate had any intention of retreating whatsoever. Lyn was zipping around, her rapier flashing in front of her like quicksilver. Roaring like some primeval monster, Damien was tearing his way through the soldiers, not caring about any wounds he received.

_Gotta learn close combat situations sometime_, Cassandra told herself as she flicked her throwing knife into her right hand. She closed her eyes, concentrating as hard as she could. She took a deep breath, gathering oxygen in her lungs. Upon exhaling, she opened her eyes and grinned with exhilaration. "Voluntas Carnae…"

Her adrenal system flew into overdrive, magnifying her senses exponentially.

Everybody in her family could do it. She wasn't even as efficient in it as some of her other relatives. But she still found use for it, especially when it came to sniping. Using it, she could pick off the wings off a butterfly across the horizon when she had the proper equipment. At the moment, she was more concerned with the amplification to her reflexes than her senses. The only downside was that it was tiring when used too much. This was really the first time she would use it for more than a few seconds.

Leaping into the air, she kicked off one man's back and stabbed into another's neck with her knife, instantly severing his spinal cord. Using the shocked soldier for leverage, she shot forward, crashing into another group of people. As they fell to the ground, Cassandra quickly checked behind her to see where her musician had gone. He was behind her, but a good distance back. And by the looks of things, he'd need help getting through in one piece.

"Lyn!" Cassandra bellowed, jumping to her feet. "Get Alexander to the ship!"

Much to her amazement, the first mate heard and complied. All but flying like an angry wasp, Lyn barreled over, on, and through anybody in her path in her efforts to rescue the alchemist. Cassandra twisted to the side to avoid the sprinting woman, taking the opportunity to shoot off a round of her now-functioning pistol. After looking back to make sure that Lyn had reached her goal, Cassandra turned her attention to the bloody path.

"Die, intruders!" shouted a man brandishing a spear as he raced towards her. More focused on other things, she easily kicked a short dagger off the ground and impaled him through the eye. Ignoring his screech of pain, she saw that rows of men carrying large globs of dark sludge were advancing over the swamp on stilts. Realizing their intentions of pinning she and her crew beneath the sticky substance, she gritted her teeth and quickly flipped through her available options.

"Saggita Diania!" she yelled, aiming carefully and shooting off a round. Grim satisfaction washing over her, she watched as the bullet tore through the inmost stilt of the man at the end, causing him to cry out and topple awkwardly to the side. If she weren't in the middle of a battlefield, she would have laughed as she watched the men fall like dominoes, sinking pitifully into the swamp. Suddenly sensing somebody behind her, she whirled around, arm outstretched, intent on killing somebody.

"Easy, Captain," Lyn said, barely turning the knife aside. "I got Sir Lazy; now what?"

"Head for the ship!" Cassandra reminded her, before widening her eyes and shooting off another round, which barely skimmed Lyn's head. "Saggita Diania!"

"Ow!" Lyn cried, clapping a hand to her wounded ear. "Captain!"

Gesturing for the woman to turn around, Cassandra darted towards the beach, intent on reaching it before too long. Rolling her eyes as she heard the sound of realization from her first mate, who had just caught sight of the man who would have killed her otherwise, she gracelessly shoved a man into the swamp, shot another in the neck, stabbed a third in the gut, deflecting the sword of a fourth into a fifth… the killing went on. She knew that she was setting a horrible example for her non-berserk crewmembers, but she didn't care. Mother bears protected their cubs by any means necessary. Adult wolves protected the pack while potential threats were about. Even the normally violent Sea Kings worked themselves into a hazardous frenzy if other Sea Kings in the vicinity were being attacked.

The day wore on.

Cassandra was splattered with blood from her victims. Dark, cherry-red stains covered her hair, her clothes, her skin. Her gloved hand was covered in gunpowder residue, though she had run out of ammunition long ago. The sharp smell of death clogged her nostrils, gagging her with every breath she took. Behind her, the labored breathing of her crewmembers was audible, though one of them tried fiercely to hide her exhaustion. The enemy numbers seemed to be dwindling; the soldiers were less eager to charge forward upon realizing that they were dealing with actual pirates, not weak mercenaries like they had hoped.

However, one particularly bold man broke the monotony by stumping forward, an unpleasant leer adorning his face. He stood only slightly taller than Damien, his body ripling with enormous muscles. Ornate tattoos decorated his skin, giving him an even more savage appearance. Opening his mouth lopsidedly and revealing yellowed teeth, he growled, "You will not pass, pirates."

Exhaling heavily, Cassandra stared tiredly up at the man. Flipping a discarded spear from the path into her hand with a red boot, she broke off the spearhead and sighed, "I've killed countless of your clansmen. What makes you so different?"

"I am Azmat, captain of this area," he boomed. "These are slaves, not clansmen. They have served their purpose of wearing you down. You will not find me as easy to kill as such creatures."

Irritated with his casual disregard for the people she had fought, she flicked the spearhead at his face. Quick as a flash, he brought up an enormous spiked maze, knocking the projectile into the swamp. Cursing herself for losing her spare ammunition in the village swamp, she quirked her mouth in annoyance. "You treat them like objects."

"You seemed to have no problem killing them," Azmat observed. "Besides, you have underlings as well. Surely you must know what it is like, to hold a position of power."

"Yes," she conceded. "But I am trying to escape. And what is it with this island and questioning my crew? They aren't babies, though the gods know they act like them…"

Azmat looked genuinely taken aback at this, staring at her in confusion. "But… surely you realize that you have no real need for weaker-"

"Weaker?" a malevolent voice snarled from behind him. Azmat barely had time to respond before a bloody arm snaked around his neck. Damien poked his head over the man's shoulder, baring his crimson-coated teeth at his prey. "Big fuckin' words."

Cassandra stared at him for a second. "Back off, Damien."

He leveled his glare at her. "Don' give me fuckin' orders."

"I am your captain," she reminded him. "Giving orders is what I do."

"Sure 'bout tha'?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

Cassandra facefaulted. _This is what I have to deal with for the rest of_… her train of thought slid to a halt. _How long _are_ we all going to be together?_ Then, remembering something slightly more pressing, she snapped back to the present. "Do not test me, Damien. You have plenty of other foes. This one is mine."

Crazed green eyes bore into her own as the man didn't move a muscle. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Damien relinquished his hold, glaring contemptuously at the large slavemaster. "Fine… At leas' one o' these bastards should gimme a good fight…"

Cassandra sighed and waved him off. "Do whatever you want."

With a disappointed sigh, the navigator bounded towards the massed soldiers standing between them and the _Howling Knave_. Cassandra turned back to the massive Azmat, who merely stood there, looking like he had seen a ghost. "Still think they're weaker?"

The large man opened and closed his mouth several times, giving an excellent goldfish impersonation. The men surrounding him faltered, staring with a mixture of fear and surprise. They now looked unsure of their leader, as if they didn't know what to do. However, Azmat quickly regained his composure, a mean snarl crawling across his face. "Don't listen to her, you worthless rats. Obviously, the others are also captains."

"Pathetic lies from a pathetic man," Lyn commented, waltzing up and throwing an arm around Cassandra's shoulders.

"And here comes the woman who never fails to make the situation worse," Cassandra groaned. "How're we doing on the rear end?"

"Alexander and I are fine," Lyn reported. "And what do you mean by 'never fails to make things worse'?"

Ignoring the last question, Cassandra focused once more on Azmat, flicking a throwing knife into her hand. "Listen, I'm kinda tired at the moment. Could you step aside so I can get to my ship?"

"Death before surrender!" Azmat roared, swinging his mace around to reinforce his statement. This seemed to encourage the surrounding soldiers, for they began to press forward, complicating the situation.

"Shame," Cassandra said, concentrating as much power as she could into her left hand. "Looks like you must join your slaves in the afterlife."

She kicked a nearby dagger at the man's stomach, forcing him to deflect with his gigantic weapon. She couldn't help but smirk at his mistake: he left himself wide open for another attack. The knife left her hand like chain lightning, flying through the air almost as fast as one of her bullets. She began running forward, anticipating the need to retrieve the knife from his neck without losing a second of her time.

Unfortunately for her, Azmat was faster than he looked. A lot faster. He brought his mace around in a swift arc, catching the knife the instant before it would have killed him. Glinting brightly, the polished handle blended in perfectly with the other pieces of metal stuck haphazardly into the thick wood. Her eyes widened and she tried to alter her course, but her tired muscles wouldn't react quickly enough. Azmat dealt her a glancing blow with the butt of the mace as she flew by, sending her tumbling to the ground.

"Shame," he sneered mockingly as he planted a heavy foot on her side, pinning her to the earth. "Looks like you must join your _crew-_" This, he spat out like it was profanity. "In the after life. Prepare to die, bitch!"

"Carta Volando!"

Azmat let out a roar, twisting to the side and unintentionally grinding Cassandra harder into the dirt. Gritting her teeth, Cassandra forced her head around to stare up the path. Much to her surprise, a topless Lyn was standing a good five meters away, staring at her rapier in shock. Alexander's eyes flicked from the frozen first mate to the shocked slavemaster, amazement evident in his dark brown eyes. Even the surrounding soldiers remained still, trying to figure out what had just happened.

Alexander was the first to regain his voice. "What the hell did you do?"

"You cut me!" Azmat shouted. Indeed, a hair-thin line of blood slid across his cheek. Cassandra squirmed mightily, but to no avail. The massive man planted his mace not three centimeters from her head and stared incredulously at Lyn. "How could you, armed with only a sword, cut me, the mightiest of men?"

Lyn didn't respond. She was talking silently to herself, her mouth barely moving at all. Having been raised to lip-read since she was old enough to talk, Cassandra realized that the former nun was merely whispering parts and bits of words, trying to help her thought process along. The pirate captain let out a muffled cry as Azmat's weight on his foot slowly increased, her bones creaking in protest.

"Answer me when I talk to you!" Roughly kicking Cassandra to the side, he marched towards the still woman, lugging his massive mace behind him. She crashed into a nearby corpse, quickly identifying it as one of Damien's victims due to the lack of a lower torso. Knocking off the arm that had flopped across her body, she staggered to her feet and fumbled around for something to use as a weapon.

Unexpectedly, a large mass of water bowled her over once more, nearly sending her into the swamp. Shards of pain flared in her body, mixing with the dull ache of the day's events to form one throbbing mass of pain. The shards intensified as she slammed into the ground, nearly causing her to scream out in pain. Inhaling a shaky breath, she managed to calm her already drained adrenal system, returning her senses back to normal. She slumped to the ground as the pain lessened every so lightly, becoming more and more manageable as the seconds ticked by.

She only realized that she had temporarily blacked out when she saw that Lyn was kneeling beside her, furiously shaking her shoulder. "Getupcaptaincaptaingetup!" she babbled in her something-is-seriously-wrong voice.

"What is it?" Cassandra asked, slowly sitting up.

"Thehulkiscoming!" Lyn shouted as she shot to her feet, rapier at the ready.

Wincing heavily, Cassandra twisted around to see that Azmat was indeed charging towards them, albeit without his gigantic mace. "Huh."

"Dosomethingdosomethingnow-"

"Quiet!" Cassandra snapped. Lyn adopted a wounded expression on her face, retreating ever so slightly. The pirate captain's hazel eyes flew around, her mind racing to come up with a solution to this problem. Most fortunately for her, Azmat slipped on a dismembered limb, falling to the ground with a loud _crash_. Seizing the opportunity, she closed her eyes once more, thinking of every different possibility in the lot. Ideas, both crazy and impossible, whizzed through her mind, each regarded for a fraction of a second before being tossed aside.

An idea finally popped into her mind, more complicated than it should be, but it was the best option she had. When she opened her eyes, Azmat was almost upon them.

"Deaden his left arm," she hissed to Lyn, swiftly rising to her feet. Lyn opened her mouth, but Cassandra cut her off with a swift "Do it."

Azmat swung a sword he had picked up in their direction, obviously intent on finishing them both in a single swipe. Lyn dodged backwards, the sword tip just tearing at her stomach. Cassandra tried to do the same, but found that her legs wouldn't respond properly. Settling for falling to avoid the deadly blade, she looked at herself, realizing that the various knives and pieces of metal from Azmat's mace were protruding from her body.

To any normal person, this would have provided severe problems. However, as Cassandra was a pirate desperate to stay alive, she saw these weapons not as hindrances, but as ammunition. Wrenching a nail out of her thigh, she threw it with deadly accuracy at a point on his neck. Azmat, having identified her as the more dangerous of the two, twisted to block it with his newly-acquired sword.

"Ira Iunoia!" she shouted, not caring about the blood flowing from her wounds as she withdrew the metal objects. Azmat was forced to block each one, also knowing that if he tried to attack, he would die.

"What do you want me to do, Captain?" Lyn asked aloud, taking advantage of Azmat's inability to attack her.

"Behind him!" Cassandra managed, devoting a good portion of her energy to keep her knees from buckling.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lyn as she threw another projectile. Making a mental note to commend the woman later for obeying so quickly, she felt her fingers curl around a familiar hilt as she prepared to throw one of her last available projectiles. Glancing downwards, she confirmed that it was indeed her trusty throwing knife. Grateful to have it back, she paused long enough for Azmat to raise his sword above his head.

"Carta Volando!"

Azmat shouted in pain and whirled around, a second red line adorning his other cheek. "You die now!"

Cassandra sighed in relief as he foolishly turned her back to her. Gathering most of her remaining energy, she ran forward and jumped, wrapping one arm around his neck. He roared and spun around, nearly causing her to release her hold. But she knew she had him. His death was inevitable. And so, ignoring his wild thrashing, she spun her knife around, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"Manus Lavernae."

* * *

This battle will end eventually, I swear it. As an interesting note, Cassandra's pistols aren't the usual One Piece variety, which apparently have unlimited ammunition. How unfortunate.

And congratulations to CaptainBadger and Hertz for finishing their st


	11. NotSoAggressive Negotiations

And after my rather brief absence, here it is: the eleventh chapter of the Black Glove Pirates. Fascrion took longer than I thought it would, to tell the truth. See how their adventure continues...

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. The only reason I'm saying this is because Oda owns the universe. It's true. He owns the entire freaking universe. I just own some of the characters.

* * *

Cassandra spun her knife around as she walked slowly down the path, her keen eyes following the tiny crimson droplets as they flew through the air. A triumphant grin spread over her face; the big slavemaster had not been easy to take down, but she had finally done it. "Are you okay, Lyn?"

"Am _I_ okay?" Lyn shouted in astonishment, her eyes still focused on Azmat's mangled neck. "I should be the one asking that! Look at you! You still have like a hundred million knives sticking from your body, your clothes are completely red, you look like you're about to pass out…"

Despite her ranting, Cassandra could tell that the woman was genuinely relieved that Cassandra had survived. But as much as she loved to listen to Lyn's endless babbling, she had more important matters to attend to. "Is Alexander okay?"

Lyn stopped mid-word, before resuming at a slower rate. "He saved my life by turning Mammoth's stick-thing into water. He's over there, unconscious."

Cassandra slowly walked over to his still form, pulling out and discarding the other weapons stuck in her body. Kneeling down next to him, she slowly trailed her fingers over his body. The exhausted musician was a sorry sight. His shirt, tie, and boxers were covered in blood and grime, contrasting starkly with his usual immaculate appearance. His chest rose and fell slightly as shallow breaths rasped out from his dusty throat. Pushing these observations aside, Cassandra focused more on finding his physical injuries. "His wrists are sprained. His right arm is broken. He's fatigued." She looked up. "Lyn, grab him."

If she was surprised by her captain's brusque attitude, Lyn didn't show it. She walked over and bent over, gently grabbing the unconscious man and placing him on her shoulders. After staggering backwards a bit, she regained her balance and looked at her captain. "So now what?"

"We leave," Cassandra said shortly, turning back towards the beach and the mass of people clogging the path to it. She had had enough of this accursed island and its inhabitants and simply wanted to explore her future. She knew that she would invariably run into countless more battles, but she needed rest and training before confronting those challenges. Maybe then she would be able to protect her crew a little bit better.

Her hazel eyes hardened as she saw a carmine figure stumble and slam into the ground, sending blood flooding across the ground. Nameless soldiers rushed forward, intent on keeping the man down permanently. But Damien simply could not be overcome. Pain filling his wild roars, he staggered to his feet, launching a few more blows before he stumbled to the ground again. Cassandra tried to rush to his aid, but the mass of bodies surrounding the wounded pirate drove her back.

Then, much to Cassandra's surprise, Lyn ran forwards, unceremoniously dropping Alexander into Cassandra's arms. Upon reaching the cluster of soldiers, she threw her hands up and filled her lungs with air. "STOP!"

Amazingly enough, there was a temporary lull in the fighting. In that instant, Lyn began shouting again. "There is no need to fight! We are just trying to leave! Your slaver is dead; there is no reason to fight against us any more!"

"Yes there is!" a soldier countered, emerging from the bloody fighters. "This man has killed our friends, our family, everybody we cared about. You all may go, but he must atone for his sins."

"I, too, have killed your people," Cassandra stated. "Does that mean that I must also stay?"

"You misunderstand," he shot back, fury etched on his battle-scarred face. "This was indeed a battle, and we know that, but he did not just kill to protect or to escape. You were not fighting against him; you did not see him, see his eyes. He was enjoying the slaughter he was inflicting upon our troops. He killed without abandon, without mercy. He cut us down like scythes through grass and laughed all the while."

"An' I'd do it again," Damien snarled from under the dogpile. "In an 'eartbeat."

"And that is why he must pay," the man concluded, pointing his spear at the hidden pirate.

Cassandra opened her mouth, but could find no words that could possibly convince them to free her navigator. She had seen his bloodlust firsthand; she knew that there was no denying that fact. It crushed her spirit to realize that she couldn't save the man from the execution the islanders intended for him to receive. Not for the first time, she questioned whether or not she was an acceptable captain, letting her crewmembers go just like that.

With Damien, however, actions spoke louder than words. With a colossal heave, he pushed himself to his feet, causing the enormous pile of people to shriek in shock and despair as he lifted him on his back. He stood there, looking like a mythological man who carried the heavens on his shoulders. His demented glare roved around as he bared his crimson fangs challengingly. For an instant, his green eyes connected with Cassandra's and she could see the madness within. She was immediately reminded of another pair of green eyes, virtually identical in every aspect. _Could it be?_

Trying not to crumple to the ground because of the inordinate amount of blood he had lost, Damien growled, "And how d'you inten' t' make me pay, eh?"

The man gaped in amazement, his spear clattering to the corpse-ridden road. "W-well…"

"Here's a deal," Cassandra proposed, remembering to ask him about the matter later. "Let's face it: if you try and do anything to him, he'll probably kill you and move on to the next guy. So how about we let bygones be bygones and you let us leave?"

"I know you want to avenge the deaths of your clansmen," Lyn chimed in before the man could respond, intent on having her voice heard. "But if you attack, you'll have no chance of survival. As much as it pains you, you're going to have to let us leave."

"Still…" the man mumbled.

Carefully setting her rapier at her captain's feet, Lyn walked towards the protesting slave, causing Cassandra to glance at her in alarm. "With Big, Tall, and Ugly out of the way, who's in charge?"

"There were four other men besides me who were unofficially group leaders…" the man trailed off, unsure of her intentions.

"Find them," Lyn ordered softly. "May I be allowed an audience, seeing as how I haven't killed a single one of your friends?"

The man nodded, then looked uncomfortably at Cassandra. Making sure to keep her face perfectly impassive, the pirate captain shook her head slightly. "I will be sure to stay clear of your meeting. Damien will obviously stay away as well."

Backing away as he nodded, the man gestured for Lyn to follow him. Cassandra felt unsure about leaving her first mate unattended and once again cursed her lack of pistol ammunition. Depositing Alexander's heavy body on the ground, she pulled the remaining shards from her body, replacing one of her own knives in her shoulder sheathes. Keeping the other tucked in her left hand, she trained her sharp gaze on the pair as they wandered through the ranks of soldiers. In her peripheral vision, she saw Damien dump the soldiers onto the path, snarling viciously to speed the men on their way, and visually follow Lyn's progress as well. She hoped that if anything happened, she would be able to save her first mate in time.

Several tense minutes passed by as Lyn reasoned non-stop with the former slaves. Cassandra almost collapsed from exhaustion, but Damien, barely keeping on his feet himself, managed to catch her in time. Despite having lost an excessive quantity of blood, he was somehow still able to support himself, Cassandra, and Alexander, who he had thrown over his shoulder. Nodding thankfully, Cassandra seized the opportunity to relax, resting her head on his other shoulder. "Don' fall asleep on me now, Cap'n."

Cassandra looked up at his weary scarlet grin. "My body may be tired, but my mind is still awake." This was mostly true; the continued taxation of her adrenal system had completely worn out her body. However, overusing it had also muddied her head, causing her brain to feel faintly fuzzy. But Damien didn't need to know that.

"So wha' 'appened t' Songbird?" Damien asked, glancing at unconscious musician with concern.

She frowned, trying to remember. "Remember the really big guy I told you not to kill?" He nodded. "Well, Alexander turned his mace into water to save us."

"Tha' explains all th' pointy shit you 'ad stuck in yeh," Damien murmured, glancing down at her body to make sure she was okay. "Speakin' o' which-"

Any further conversation was cut off as Lyn walked back alone, looking weary but alive. After picking up her rapier, she gave a fleeting smile and gestured towards the _Howling Knave_. "They agreed to let us leave so long as we never return. Let's go."

"I can't believe it…" Cassandra whispered in amazement, shaking her head in admiration. "I don't know how you did it, but thank you. We all thank you."

"No problem," Lyn said with a grin. Scratching the back of her head, she turned to the laden fighter. "Need any help?"

"Nah," Damien grunted, shifting Alexander's weight slightly. "I can las' 'til th' ship. You look tired too."

Lyn shrugged and began walking the final stretch back to the ship. Cassandra tried to follow, but found that her feet were no longer touching the ground. Damien had somehow shifted her into a sitting position on his shoulder while she wasn't paying attention. _I really need to work on this_, she thought to herself, referring to the prolonged use of straining her body. It took them a little while, but they eventually reached the _Howling Knave_unmolested. The first thing they did upon boarding was collapse to the deck in unison. After lying motionless for a moment, Lyn managed a dry chuckle. "Some medic stop, eh?"

A wet laugh, presumably from Damien, hung in the air. Turning towards him, Cassandra saw that he was baring his teeth in a feral grin. "Nex' time, I'm lightin' th' place up."

"Not with us on it, I hope," Lyn said, propping herself up on an elbow.

Shaking her head wearily, Cassandra pulled herself to her feet. As much as she would have liked to just lie there, there was work to be done. "Listen up, pirates. We need to unfurl the sails, raise the anchor, and get out into the open ocean. Let's put this hellhole behind us."

"I'll get the sails," Lyn volunteered, also getting to her feet.

Alexander didn't answer, seeing as how he was deeply unconscious.

"I'll tend to you in a second," Cassandra told him despite the fact that he couldn't actually respond.

She paused, waiting for her navigator to speak up. When he didn't, she turned around and raised an eyebrow. "And what might you be doing?"

Damien, who was slowly lumbering towards the galley, twisted his head slightly. "I dunno much 'bout medical shit, but I've jus' survived a battle with abou' a million men an' I'm hungry 'n' thirsty."

"Fine, but be back out as soon as you-" Cassandra began.

_Crash!_

Damien, apparently having been too tired to open the door, or even figure out where the door actually was, had walked straight through the wall without batting an eyelash. The first mate glanced at him with amusement, swiftly returning to her previous task when she saw her captain's look. Cassandra was not as pleased. "Rule Number One of the Black Glove Pirates," she sighed. "No destroying the ship!"

"My bad," came the reply from the galley. Then, after a second, "Uh… Cap'n?"

"What is it?" she asked, striding over to the windlass.

"Think I'm dead," he responded.

"That's nice," she muttered, raising the anchor with painstaking slowness.

The following _smash_ caused Cassandra to grit her teeth in irritation. Stalking over to the hole in the wall, she raised her finger and opened her mouth, ready to give the navigator a piece of her mind. But something stopped her. It might have been her exhaustion and unwillingness to deal with any more problems until she got a good night's rest. It might have been the man lying amid the countless splinters that used to be the table. It might even have been the shouts coming from her conscious crewmember, who had popped up behind her to see what was going on.

But it was probably the enormous pool of blood staining the floorboards, growing larger with each passing second.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"I swear, that's all I know! She came one day, stayed the night, and was taken away the next day by a group of pirates!" the man babbled, panicking in the complete darkness. "Please, spare my life! I have a wife, childre-"

"Not anymore."

He let out a muted gurgle and fell back, clutching his bleeding throat. The window cover slipped a little, sending a single ray of sunlight into the room. A pair of inky black eyes stared coolly down at the dying man, no trace of remorse or mercy in the onyx orbs. Tossing the man's own bloody carving knife onto the body, the assailant turned towards the door and began to exit. Towards the rear of the house, something moved. An instant later, a light _thud_ echoed throughout the empty building. Satisfied, the person looked in the direction of the ocean. "Where are you, Black Glove Cassandra…" came a whisper that was silky yet sinister, like velvet being rubbed against a bloody blade.

In an instant, the person vanished. A fierce wind blew, causing the window cover to fall all the way and shed light upon the ghastly scene. Bodies were scattered about, but only the most recent victim was bleeding at all. The expressions on the other faces were peaceful, showing that they either had accepted their death or, more likely, had never known that they had perished. As the day passed on and sunlight roved through the house, one final casualty was revealed. A black cat, completely indistinguishable from the previous darkness, was affixed to the back door, a steak knife perfectly piercing the animal's fragile neck.

* * *

Hey all, Sir Gar the Bold here. This chapter is being released on account of the death a great writer, one of my favorites. Yesterday, Michael Crichton died of cancer at age 66. I admire him in many respects and mourn his passing. He also said something about writing which I will now share with you all, something that I find to be quite true:

Books aren't written - they're rewritten. Including your own. It is one of the hardest things to accept, especially after the seventh rewrite hasn't quite done it. -Michael Crichton


	12. Interlude at Sea

Thanks to my darling beta, this chapter was able to get up pretty quickly. Without any further ado, aside from the regular disclaimer (I do not own One Piece, in case you've forgotten) and my rambling on, let us begin!

* * *

Unlike his last battle, it took Damien only two days to recover from his grievous injuries.

Cassandra awoke early, which was unusual for her. She usually liked to sleep in a bit, especially since she had crewmembers who would undoubtedly rouse her should a problem arise. She tried to fall back to sleep, but something prevented her from doing so. After spending a few minutes simply lying there, she sat up and glanced around. Wearing practically nothing, Lyn was sprawled across her bed, her covers tangled around her waist and feet, leaving her legs and the rest of her body exposed to the cool air. Outside, a thick grey fog had descended while she was asleep, ideal for a sneak attack.

Shaking her head to clear her mind of such paranoia, she pushed off her covers and placed her feet on the thick rug covering the floor. Silently walking over to the bathroom and relieving herself, she quickly located her toothbrush, toothpaste, and a cup of water. After tipping a bit of water and toothpaste over her toothbrush, she strode outside, pausing only to put on a vest and fasten a single button across her breasts. Not caring about the slight chill on her bare skin, she leaned on the railing and stared out at the fog-covered ocean, letting thoughts pass through her mind like sand through an hourglass.

"'Oo's there?" a rough voice called out.

She glanced at the poop deck, recognizing her navigator's tone anywhere. After spitting a mouthful of foam into the waters below, she responded, "It's just me, Damien."

Climbing the stairs to the helm, she saw that Damien was sitting against the mizzenmast, not moving a muscle. Alexander, who had been changing the navigator's bandages, looked up at her. "Good morning to you, Captain."

Waving her cup of water at them, she cocked her head to the side questioningly. Alexander, the more acute of the pair, understood what she was trying to communicate. "Hothead woke up an hour or so before sunrise… when it went from dark fog to light fog," he amended. "He wanted to be outside and I needed to tend his wounds. Now why are you out here wearing only a barely-buttoned vest and shorts?"

Shaking her toothbrush dismissively, she spat another mouthful over the railing. "You need to be more careful, Damien. We won't always have such a long break between attacks, you know."

Damien opened his eyes. "Can' fuckin' help it."

"You need to be able to, mate," Alexander admonished as Cassandra swished her mouth with water. "I know you want to protect us, but you're going to get yourself killed someday."

"If I die, I die," he said offhandedly, as if commenting on the weather. "Butth' other bastard's comin' down with me."

Cassandra watched the exchange with an analytical eye. Alexander seemed concerned for his friend, which wasn't surprising. Neither were Damien's frank views on death. What was surprising was the concept that Damien wasn't fighting just to fight, that he was fighting to protect them. She, too, had seen him during the fight; he had truly been enjoying the slaughter. Placing her toothbrush in her cup, she turned to put them back in her bathroom, intent on thinking more about this.

"Yer afraid o' me, aren' ya, cocksuckin' Cap'n?"

Damien's statement stopped her in her tracks.

"Don' try t' fuckin' deny it; I can see it in yer fuckin' eyes," he continued, the casual manner with which he spoke chilling her to the bone. "You… the 'arlot… even this 'ere Songbird fears me."

Cassandra turned back to him, choosing her words carefully. "We all fear what we do not understand," she said eventually.

An amused smirk crept onto his lips. "Pretty words, concubine. You got no guts."

"That's not true…" His words were making her uneasy. The conversation was growing steadily more uncomfortable as it drew closer and closer to her and her feelings.

"I don' think so," he murmured. "Granted, yer the only person 'oo could possibly understan' me on this ship, bein' a killer an' all, but did yeh make th' right decision acceptin' me aboard?"

"Yes." She said this with absolute certainty. "I do not regret my choice for an instant."

"Is that so…" he trailed off.

"Damien, what is this nonsense?" Alexander asked in a jesting tone. "She accepted us onto this ship after only knowing us for an hour. Even after she found out that you and I are like the sun and the moon, that you're sadistic while I'm cursed with a Devil Fruit, she accepted us. Heck, she accepted Lyn, despite the fact that they probably wouldn't ordinarily get along."

"I resent that," a drowsy voice drifted up from the balcony. Lyn's disheveled hair came into view, her bleary eyes following immediately after. "I would get along very well with Captain."

"Not if you had grown up with her, I bet," Alexander shot back. "And why aren't you wearing any real clothes?"

After glancing at the blanket wrapped around her body, Lyn planted her hand on her hip challengingly. "I was hot. What's it to you?"

Simultaneously amused by her musician's somewhat old-fashioned nature and glad that the conversation had steered away from her, Cassandra began edging towards the stairs again.

"But the fact remains that I didn't grow up with her," Lyn piped up. "So we get along just fine. Isn't that right, Captain?"

Gritting her teeth, Cassandra cast a glare in Lyn's direction. _I have doubt myself enough about my ability as a Captain without being questioned aloud about it_, she mentally hissed. "Like we were sisters."

"See, Captain agrees with me!" Lyn shouted. "And I trust her to make the right decision."

"Doesn't your religion dislike tainted minds, bodies, and souls or something like that?" Alexander asked.

"Yeah," Lyn conceded. "But the good spirits work in mysterious ways. After all, Captain was locked up because of it and if she hadn't been, I wouldn't be a pirate, you would still be on the island, and so on and so forth."

Damien's yawn cut into their argument. "All this philosophical, judgmental, mystical shit is making me 'ead 'urt. Go the hell away an' let me sleep again."

Without missing a beat, Alexander and Lyn departed, still arguing pointlessly. Cassandra cast one last look at the navigator. "You know you're supposed to be steering, right?"

"I've lashed th' wheel on course," he responded without opening his eyes. "Just wake me up if we're about t' crash into an island 'r something."

Rolling her eyes and sighing, Cassandra began to descend when she remembered something from Fascrion. She briefly pictured a different green-eyed fighter slicing through enemies like hot knives through butter and turned back to the navigator. "Do you have any relatives with blue or green hair?"

He didn't visibly react to the odd question. "Not that I can think of."

Shrugging, she went back to the women's quarters, replacing her cup and toothbrush in the bathroom. Discarding her vest and throwing on a T-shirt, socks, jeans, and her customary red boots, she strolled outside and took a deep breath of the crisp morning air. She leaned on the railing, her mind still buzzing about the previous conversation. _Am I really ready to be a captain of these people?_ she asked herself. She had never doubted herself before. She had expected the life of a pirate captain to be simpler than this. Sighing internally, she also knew that she had barely tasted the troubles to come, both for being a captain and a pirate.

Her hazel eyes scanned the fog and tried to detect any foreign movement or hear any out-of-place sounds, a subconscious action. _They're some of the most eccentric and wild people I've ever known, yet I find myself falling in love with them_. _I find myself beginning to depend on them, to trust them_… She shook her head at herself. "The more people trust, the more they will be betrayed…" she murmured, reflecting back to her previous life.

"Ah, but the less people trust, the less they will be able to enjoy the world." She turned sharply as Lyn waltzed up and threw an arm across her shoulders. "You're a pirate, Captain. Enjoy the world."

Cassandra felt the corners of her mouth lift up into a small, but grateful smile. "How deep of you, first mate."

"Yeah, I have my moments," Lyn declared, posing dramatically.

"Do you have moments where you bother to put on clothes?" Alexander asked, emerging from the galley with a piece of toast in his hand.

"Damn it, Alexander!" Lyn cried, deflating completely. "Do you always have to ruin the moment?"

"Yes," he said offhandedly, taking another bite of his toast.

"C'mere, you little!" Lyn vaulted the railing and made a dash for the unfortunate musician. Said musician screamed, practically inhaled the rest of his meal, and bolted for the men's quarters. However, his speed was no match for Lyn's, quickly falling into her clutches before he passed the mast. "You're gonna pay!"

"Captain!" Alexander called, attempting to push the mostly-naked woman off of him.

"You're a big boy," Cassandra said dismissively as she descended to the main deck the normal way: via the stairs. "Solve your own problems."

"But Captain!" His panicked cry followed her into the galley, where the musician had meticulously cleaned up after himself. She was by no means a decent chef, but she could prepare a passable meal. Swiftly opening up the pantry, she withdrew an armful of ingredients and placed them on the counter. In no time at all, she had a plate of sandwiches waiting to be eaten. Grabbing a sandwich for herself, she walked over to the table and began to set the plate down, realizing just in time that the table still hadn't been repaired since Damien had plowed through it. Rolling her eyes, she nudged the door open with her foot. "Breakfast is ready!"

"Ooh, sandwiches!" Lyn bounded up to her, having finally put on her nun's robes. The paint-stained clothes had been modified slightly: the sleeves had been shortened and the quasi-pants had turned into quasi-shorts. "What's in 'em?"

"Captaaaaaaaaain!" Cassandra glanced up to see that Alexander had been bound to the mast with his own ties and was dressed in nothing but a pair of note-covered boxers. She began to laugh and nearly choked on her food, pounding her chest with her free hand to make sure she didn't die of asphyxiation by sandwich, a truly embarrassing way to die.

Ignoring her captain, Lyn glanced up at the bound musician, a sandwich in each hand. "Ne'er pish off an ar'ish'," she told him through a mouthful of food.

"Can't you just turn the ties into water?" Cassandra asked.

"These are my best ties!" he shouted, outraged. "Let me go!"

"Shu' up!" roared an irate navigator, leaning heavily on the poop deck railing. "I'm tryin' t' get some fuckin' sleep 'ere!"

Cassandra threw a sandwich up at him. "Everybody just calm down. Lyn, get Alexander down and try to be nice. Damien, just get back to sleep. Alexander, work on something else."

Grudgingly, her crew complied.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Captain!" Lyn shouted. "I'm bored!"

"So entertain yourself," Cassandra called back, not looking up from the book she had been reading. The fog had burned off around mid-morning, letting the sun shine brightly upon the seas. She was lounging on the forecastle deck on a patio chair she had dredged up from the storage rooms, basking in the warm sunlight. She had a book in one hand and an apple in the other. In other words, she was enjoying one of her favorite activities and eating her favorite food. She did not want to be disturbed.

"But Captaaaaain…" Lyn whined.

"Go draw Damien again or something," Cassandra said lazily. She took a bite of her fruit, savoring the sweet taste of a good apple.

"Aaaaaaleeeeex…" Lyn moaned. "Captain's being mean…"

"Deal with it," Alexander said uncaringly, staring hard at the ball he had been trying to transmute into stone for the past half hour.

"Daaaamieeeen… Everybody's being mean…"

A thunderous snore drifted from the helm, where the navigator was still fast asleep.

"Don't bother him," Alexander told the first mate. "You don't want to wake him up, though I suppose he's still too tired to do much if he did."

Damien backed up this statement by falling to the floorboards with a loud _thump_, still snoring loudly.

"Well, I guess he deserves the rest," Lyn conceded. "I suppose I could draw…"

"That's the spirit," Cassandra murmured, turning the page.

A few gloriously silent minutes passed by. Lyn had thankfully found something quiet to do, Alexander's curses were soft enough to be ignored, and Damien's rhythmic snoring blended perfectly in with the pulsating sound of the ocean, creating a soothing atmosphere. All was right with the world. However, Cassandra knew that the peace was not to last. She was right.

"What do you think of my painting, Captain?" Lyn's voice came.

"It's great Lyn," Cassandra replied, her eyes never leaving her book.

"You didn't even look," Lyn complained.

Sighing, Cassandra looked up, knowing that she was never going to hush the woman otherwise. She searched the decks for the first mate, but she was nowhere to be found. Her eyes trailed slowly upwards, scanning the riggings and the yards. Finally she saw Lyn, who was tenaciously gripping the flagpole jutting from the crow's nest. A suspicious feeling growing in her stomach, she followed Lyn's finger up to her Jolly Roger. What she saw made her raise her eyebrows in shock.

In mere minutes, Lyn had redone the skull'n'crossbones, making it look much more impressive than it had before. Instead of being gripped by a black glove, like it had before, the skull now grinned freely at everybody present, a white cowboy hat perched on top of it. A pair of pistols formed an X behind the pale bones, showing Cassandra's two preferred weapons. And, behind it all, a skillfully drawn black glove loomed, looking like it was about to crush everything in a powerful fist. Cassandra was amazed to see that the glove was for the left hand, judging by the direction that the thumb pointed. She hadn't expected Lyn to pay attention to the fact that she was left-handed, but apparently the woman had.

"So whaddaya think?" Lyn yelled, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Magnificent!" Cassandra commended her. "Now can you paint it on the main sail?"

"No problem!"

Nodding in satisfaction, Cassandra admired the Jolly Roger for a bit longer before returning to her book. She made it through two pages before she frowned and looked back up. "I thought you didn't have drawing materials."

"We were looking for you on Bastion, or whatever it was called, and, lo and behold, a general store. Seeing as how they should pay for almost killing us several times, I took what we needed and set off!"

"Nice!" Cassandra shouted, not caring in the least about the stolen items.

Lyn was practically glowing with pride. "I took some paint, some fish bones, a collar, a can of swamp stuff-"

"What the hell did you take that stuff for?" Cassandra bellowed.

"I thought they were cool…" Lyn trailed off, her pleased demeanor vanishing instantaneously.

After a sigh, Cassandra decided that the woman hadn't meant any harm by it. "Well, at least you got something…"

"Like the map we've been going by!"

"Oh, so we're not just going in a random direction?" Cassandra muttered to herself, glancing at her sleeping navigator.

"Would you people please shut up!" Alexander shouted. "I'm trying to concentrate and you're not helping!"

"We'll I'm _so_-rry!" Lyn responded, hanging upside down on the main top-gallant yard. "I'll try to be a litt-"

_BOOM!_

A loud blast interrupted her. Noting her page number, Cassandra shut her book and tucked it under her arm. "Report, Lyn!"

"A ten-gun frigate coming up fast behind us!" Lyn yelled after a short time. "Jolly Roger's two quills behind a skull with some weird glasses!"

"I have no idea who it is," Cassandra thought aloud. "But the fact that they're firing at us and they're faster than us isn't a good sign. Alexander, man the cannons! Down to the medical ward, out either door, and down the corridor! Lyn, keep an eye on them and tell me if they're getting too close! Damien, wake the hell up!"

Alexander had vanished belowdecks the moment she had begun commanding Lyn, Lyn climbed back into the crow's nest and stared at the oncoming ship, and Damien remained resolutely asleep. Growling in irritation, she vaulted the railing separating the forecastle deck from the main deck and threw herself into a tight roll, springing to her feet without any injury to speak of. Hurtling up the stairs and only pausing to put her book on her bed, she stormed over to the navigator and plucked the pistols from her hips.

"Wake up!" she shouted, shooting both her pistols right by his ears.

"'M awake, 'm awake," he mumbled, holding his hands to his ears. "Better 'ave a good fuckin' reason t' wake me, strumpet."

"You're the resident fighter!" she told him. "Get up and fight!"

Damien sighed and pulled himself to his feet, yawning unashamedly. Apparently the forward cannon had been reloaded, for another cannon shot rang out. Without budging an inch, his arm snapped up, easily catching the cannonball that would have broken the mast and Cassandra's skull otherwise. Cassandra raised her eyebrows in surprise: not many people she knew could do such a thing.

"For you, shit'ead," he said, handing her the cannonball.

She took it in one hand and promptly dropped it due to its weight, narrowly avoiding crushing her toes. "Just do something."

"Don' feel like fuckin' jumpin' over there," he yawned, sitting down against the wheel. "Let me res' a bit more…"

"Get your ass up now!" she yelled, hitting him in the head in hopes of motivating him.

An instant later, she seriously regretted her action. It felt like she had tried to punch through solid steel (which, once she thought about it, was practically the truth). She shook her injured hand, cursing darkly to herself.

Damien, however, looked up at her with an amused grin. "Fuckin' 'ell. Feisty little bitch, arencha?"

She looked back over the stern, where the ship was. Or rather, where the ship should have been. Turning to the side, she realized that while she had been arguing with her navigator, the ship had snuck up on the starboard side, men with grappling hooks standing at the ready. Not unduly concerned with the ship, she was more irritated with herself for putting Lyn on watch duty. Again.

"You woke me fer this, wench?" Damien groaned, strolling over to the rail. "Only… one, two, five, thirteen… twenty-one o' you? Tha's 'ardly a fuckin' warm-up."

"Prove it," Cassandra challenged him.

The whistles of the grappling hooks flying through the air were drowned out by the broadside attacks both ships were launching. Lyn, for some unexplained reason, hadn't moved from the crow's nest, choosing instead to peer interestedly down at the battle. Cassandra drew her pistols, noting carefully how many hooks had made it to her ship. Thirteen had.

Well, twelve, rather. Damien seized one and, after yanking its holder into the foaming water, spun it like a flail, goring two men through the chest and knocking them into three others. Then, leaving the men to suffer painful deaths, he leapt to the other ship, intent on finishing off his attackers. Only a few men tried to board; the rest stayed to attack the still sleepy navigator.

"Rocks ahead, Captain!" Lyn yelled, drawing Cassandra's attention to the bow of the ship. Some rocks were indeed jutting menacingly out of the water, directly in the path of the two ships.

"Not a problem," she muttered to herself, giving the wheel a hard twist. Nothing happened. She gave it another twist, then realized that the hooks were keeping the ships together and unable to change course. Cursing, she lashed the wheel and raced over to the sides.

"Dona Angeroniae!" she shouted, leaping clear over the rails and spinning in midair. Shooting two bullets, one directly after the other, she shot cleanly through the ropes spanning the small gap between the ships. Still spinning, she watched as the _Howling Knave_ curved sharply away, narrowly missing the black rocks before them. The other ship turned the other direction, faring less fortunately than the _Knave_: the portside railings were stripped off, but otherwise suffered little harm.

Then, by some sheer stroke of bad luck, the man clutching the hook stuck in his profusely bleeding chest fell over the railings, colliding heavily with her and pushing her downwards. She hit the cold water with a resounding splash. Floundering about helplessly, she tried to free herself of the heavy corpse, the rope from the hook tangling around her limbs. "Lyn!" she garbled, as water flooded down her throat. "Help!"

The first mate was already in action. Having unstrapped the sheath from her hip and shed most of her unnecessary clothing, she vaulted over the edge of the crow's nest and sprinted along the yard with all the elegance of a cheetah. She put her hands together above her head and threw herself off, gracefully arcing through the air and diving into the water with nary a splatter. Cassandra had already submerged, her hands clapped over her mouth to keep any air from escaping.

Lyn searched around, trying to see where Cassandra had gone. She saw with no end of dismay that her captain had been sucked into the wake of the departing frigate and was still sinking due to the dead weight. Swimming as hard as she could, she flew forwards, trying to catch up to the woman, who now had small bubbles fleeing from her mouth. Finally reaching her after a few tense seconds, she grabbed on and kicked hard, stopping their downward momentum.

Cassandra's eyes were closing, indicating her descent into unconsciousness. Realizing that she didn't have a moment to lose, Lyn placed her mouth over Cassandra's and exhaled, giving her a lungful of air. Cassandra remained motionless for a moment, then seemed to come back to life, trying furiously to disentangle them from the corpse. Lyn grinned in relief and put the woman's arm across her shoulders, watching as Cassandra pushed the corpse away.

Considering that action Cassandra's task, Lyn focused on propelling them backwards and upwards, getting away from the frigate. The seconds ticked by and air grew short, but they fought on valiantly. The dead body fell away, the hook still stuck in his chest. Cassandra realized that the rope was now tangled around Lyn's ankle, which would not help in the slightest. Lyn, apparently quite focused in life-or-death situations, realized this as well, clutching Cassandra's shoulders frantically. Grinning with relief, she pushed the knife into Cassandra's waiting hands. The captain caught it and slashed the rope just as it pulled taught.

Finally, they broke the surface, gasping madly for air. Lyn, still grinning, turned to Cassandra. "Next time you go for a swim, do it without somebody who's trying to kill you, eh?"

Cassandra spit up a mouthful of water and nodded. "I owe you my life, you know."

"I owe you mine a thousand times over," Lyn replied cheerfully. "So don't worry about it."

A loud explosion sent shockwaves through the water, causing small waves toward the two women. Having heard about situations like this, Cassandra partially lifted Lyn out of the water, causing herself to sink almost completely. She completely submerged and let Lyn hit the water just as she shockwaves subsided. Lyn tugged her back up to the surface, where she inhaled another deep breath of the briny air. Nodding thankfully at her first mate, she turned back to where the explosion had come from.

The enemy ship had been blown apart, enormous pieces of shrapnel hissing dangerously though the air. Cassandra eyed a particularly large splinter that was spinning towards them, its pointed end looking definitely lethal. "Look out!" she shouted, trying to push Lyn out of the way.

However, just as it was about to strike them, a cannonball gave it a glancing blow, sending it careening to the side and landing next to them. "All right out there, mates?"

Turning around, they saw Alexander poking his head out of a cannon hole, waving the smoke from the recently fired cannon out of his face. They waved to him thankfully, treading water to keep afloat. He flashed them a thumbs up and vanished, reappearing a few moments later on the main deck and ascending to the helm. With some difficulty, he unlashed the rope holding the _Knave_ on its present course and turned it towards them. "Now where's our final crewmember?" Cassandra wondered aloud.

She hoped that he would answer, but he didn't. At least, not in the form she had expected. Another bone-rattling snore drifted over to them, causing them to look towards it in amusement. Damien was draped across the better portion of the frigate's main mast, fast asleep again. Despite the massive amount of wood, his weight still managed to cause the mast to dip deeply into the water. He was also leaving a large trail of blood through the water, but, judging by the feeding frenzy of sharks at the wreckage of the other ship, he was safe from the predators of the sea.

"It looks like we're alive," Cassandra shouted. "Nice job for your first naval sortie."

"Even though all three of us had to save your ass at some point?" Lyn asked her.

The first mate's cheerful grin never left her face, even when Cassandra's fist collided with her skull.

* * *

And the chapter ends. A naval battle's just the thing to christen a new pirate crew, right?


	13. The Tiezserhaj Archipelago

Here is the thirteenth chapter of the Black Glove Pirates, after about a month of work, work, and more work. As of this chapter, another member has been added to my beta chain: giduncosaurus. And so, with the disclaimer "I do not own One Piece" and without any further ado, here it is!

* * *

"Land in five minutes!" Alexander shouted from the crow's nest.

"Land in five," Lyn repeated unnecessarily from her position by the galley door, where she had been carving the crew's faces into the wall above the doorframe. The crew had been no worse for wear after the naval clash. Lyn continued to be her usual, carefree self, which kept the mood aboard the ship light and cheery. Despite her admonitions, Damien began a grueling series of training exercises, putting further strain on his already wounded body. When told about this, Alexander had sighed and resumed playing his trumpet, unwilling to try to reason with the stubborn navigator.

"I heard him," Cassandra assured the first mate, cleaning off her hands in the sink. "About time, too. We're nearly out of bread."

"Oh no!" Lyn cried, putting a hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. "Out of bread! How ever will we survive?"

A wet hand towel flew into her face, effectively silencing her for a few seconds. "Do you still have the map Damien was using?" Cassandra asked.

Lyn reached into her back pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. Since the battle, she had neglected to continue wearing her almost-nun's robes. Instead, she had stolen some of Cassandra's clothes and sliced them up into rather revealing tank tops and shorts. When questioned about her choice of clothing, she claimed that she was hot. Cassandra never doubted the statement; Lyn had always kicked the covers off her bed while she was asleep. "If Damien set us in the right direction, we should be at… I have no idea."

Sighing in exasperation, Cassandra strolled over and plucked the map from the first mate's hands. Pushing aside the remains of the breakfast dishes, which the crew had neglected to clean up, she spread the map over the table and placed a plate on a corner to keep it from curling back up. "If this is Fascrion," she muttered, stabbing her finger at an unnamed blob on the paper. "Then that is Alamentia, and this section, where our darling navigator burned a hole the map, is the Charred Island, then we're at the Tiezserhaj archipelago. There are four of them, apparently."

"The Tiezserhaj islands?" Lyn said, frowning slightly.

"Ever heard of them?" Cassandra inquired, feigning ignorance.

"The nuns told me about these," Lyn murmured, digging deep into her memory. "These were the islands of war. One has poisoned crowns, one has sea rats, one has soulless ones, and one has mountain filth."

Cassandra stared at her for a moment. "And do you know what that means?"

"I don't really know…" Lyn trailed off.

"I think that certain people have taken up on each island." Lyn looked at her captain questioningly. "One has poisoned crowns… that's gotta be a kingdom on the spring island."

"Pirates on the island in front of us?" Lyn ventured.

"Exactly," Cassandra said quickly. "And… I have no idea what's on the third island island, but I bet that mountain bandits are on the fourth one."

"But I remember that it's supposed to be summer at the pirate island," Lyn said. "And spring at the kingdom island and fall on the soulless island and winter on the bandit island! Why is that?"

"Apparently, the gigantic maelstrom Nemuartsksom at the center of the four islands spins the seasons around," Cassandra responded, pretending to recall some almost-forgotten facts. "At any given time, one of the four islands has one of the four seasons. However, one season is particularly strong on each island, meaning that it stays there longer than normal, shortening the seasons visiting it."

Lyn gave her a blank stare.

"Okay, so at the pirate island, or Summer Isle, it's summer there almost half of the year. The other half, it rapidly cycles through the seasons until summer comes again. Same with the other islands, only with different seasons."

"And how do you know this?" Lyn asked suspiciously.

Cassandra waved her hand dismissively. "Picked it up somewhere, I suppose."

"I see," Lyn sighed, still not entirely convinced. "So, same drill as last time? Go find a doctor?"

"Exactly," Cassandra confirmed. "But we've got to be careful. This isn't some kind of game; these men are real pirates. There will undoubtedly be some sort of fighting and drinking, but you've got to watch out for… pay attention!" she shouted.

Lyn, who had resumed her carving, looked back up at her. "Relax, Captain. I can handle myself."

Cassandra opened her mouth to object, then shut it again. If her first mate wanted to see for herself what the basest of men was like, so be it. She would be there to help out if necessary of course, but only if Lyn had no other option. _A child never develops a decent respect for fire until she gets burned._

"Captain!" Alexander yelled from outside. "We need you to navigate since Damien's asleep again!"

"Getting a navigator who is also a fighter was not the best of ideas," she muttered to herself as she walked outside, ignoring her first mate's protests at having her carving interrupted. "I need a doctor and I need one now."

Nevertheless, she found herself at the wheel, guiding the ship as best she could into port. Ships of all sizes, from the smallest rowboat to the most massive galleons, lined the coast for as far as the eye could see. Jolly Rogers fluttered freely in the comfortable wind, the source of every true pirate's pride. But, despite the inordinate amount of ships, spaces for more docking were everywhere, as if inviting any corsair to drop by for a visit.

"Ahoy there, lass!" a man boomed from the docks. "By the looks o' yore ship, you can store 'er ten ships down. That'll be 1,000,000 Beli!"

Cassandra eyed the man evenly, not suspecting for a moment that he was in charge of the docks. Apparently realizing that he had chosen the wrong woman, he bowed hurriedly and scampered off to try to extort some other seafarer. But the man's advice regarding the best place to dock was right. And so, with no small difficulty, she turned the _Howling Knave_ to the side, steered it just shy of crushing a tiny houseboat, and collided with the docks.

"Damn it," she swore, racing over to the railing and jumping to the main deck. Grunting slightly as she landed, she sprinted over to the anchor and kicked the winch, sending the metal crashing unceremoniously into the waters below. "And no complaining from you!" she yelled as Lyn emerged from the galley, rubbing her head.

"So long as you get a doctor, you'll hear none from me either," Alexander said as he climbed down the rigging. "Now if you'll excuse me, I need to change his bandages."

Having strapped her rapier to her waist and wrapped her beads around the sheath, Lyn emerged from the women's quarters looking ready to adventure. "Sure you don't want to change into something less… provocative?" Cassandra asked her. "Some of these men are beasts."

"I'll be fine," Lyn stressed, walking over to Cassandra and standing at attention. "Why, don't you trust me?"

"Not in the least," Cassandra muttered, causing an indignant expression to flash across Lyn's face. "Now come on."

She leapt off the ship and strolled along the short path into town. As they stepped through the gigantic arch marking the entrance, they realized that this truly was a pirate's city. The majority of the buildings were composed of bars and brothels, with small residences spattered here and there. The streets weren't overly crowded, but there were small groups of pirates occasionally leaning against a wall or drinking heavily. Unconscious bodies littered the ground, some looking like they'd been in some big brawl, some looking like they'd passed out from alcohol.

"How are we going to find a doctor in this dump?" Lyn murmured.

"What you be needing a sawbones for?" a man asked, stepping in front of them and crossing his arms.

"Do you know of any?" Cassandra asked. "We have an injured crewmember that needs tending to."

The man let out a cruel laugh. "Leave him to die. A pirate that can't recover from his own injuries ain't fit to be a pirate. He definitely ain't a real man, that's fer sure."

Lyn stepped forwards to say something undoubtedly detrimental to the conversation, but Cassandra grabbed her wrist to prevent her to advance any farther. "Thank you for your opinion. We'll be on our way now…"

"Whoa whoa whoa now," the man said, stepping in their way again. "You sure you don't want to stick around? I'll show you how a real man handles himself."

Cassandra clapped her hand on Lyn's mouth. "As I said, thank you, but we have to go now."

His eyes went from Lyn's body to the pistols at Cassandra's hips. "Fine. I'll be here if you want anything else…"

"We won't," Lyn blurted past Cassandra's hand as they strode off.

Once they were out of earshot, the captain nearly sighed in relief. "You don't know how lucky we were. Other pirates might not be so forgiving. They could have weapons or fellow thugs or both."

She received no answer, which surprised her. She glanced to the side, but Lyn wasn't there. Turning fully around, she saw that Lyn was standing stock still a few meters back, staring at an alleyway in surprise. She hurried over, knowing that nothing good was going on. Indeed, when she reached to former nun and saw what the woman was staring at, her eyes widened as she began pulling as hard as she could, trying to move the stunnedwoman. Lyn eventually gave way, but her eyes remained fixed on the alleyway.

"Yes, some people have sex in broad daylight," Cassandra sighed. "I warned you, didn't I? These men are beasts." Pause. "Are you rethinking your clothing choice yet?"

"Please, Captain," Lyn said, snapping back to reality. "You're starting to sound like the Mother of all Musicians."

Smiling at Alexander's nickname, Cassandra turned back toward the town. "Come on, let's try again."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Alexander stared at his sleeping friend, smiling in amusement. Damien had refused to sleep in the medical ward any longer, choosing instead to reside inside the men's room. Unfortunately, he had forgotten that the hammocks simply could not support his weight and heat. So, while five other hammocks swing gently with the rolling waves, a sixth hammock was now a lopsided ring of burned rope. Damien lay underneath the wreckage, snoring fitfully.

"You are such a loon, my friend," Alexander murmured as he placed a glass on a stool next to the door to protect against intruders. "When are you gonna learn not to-"

Alexander paused, his muscles completely frozen with fear. Pressing hard into his neck was the edge of a razor-sharp knife, its silver blade reflecting the lamplight. His attacker was behind him, so he had absolutely no idea who it was. All he knew was that if he made a move, it would probably be his last.

"Where… is… Black Glove Cassandra?"

* * *

Hmm... most mysterious... Hope you liked it and tune in next time.


	14. A Mysterious Visitor

And, after my rather lengthy hiatus, I return with the appearance of, as the chapter title says, a mysterious visitor. I don't own One Piece, but I'll be damned if I don't own my original characters.

* * *

"Shit!" Lyn exclaimed, glaring bitterly at the sign hanging above the small apothecary. "Those assholes shouldn't even be considered doctors!"

"I think Damien's language is beginning to rub off on you," Cassandra muttered. "Regardless, I agree. Maybe we should just give up for today."

"How could you say such a thing?!" Lyn exclaimed, turning to her captain with incredulity. "You're going to give up on your crewmember just like that?"

"I said 'for today'," Cassandra reminded her. "Now help me carry these groceries. They're heavier than I expected."

Instantly forgetting the misunderstanding, the first mate grabbed an armful of bags, not staggering despite the fact that she had taken the majority of the load. Smirking victoriously, she began marching down the road, ignoring the lecherous looks thrown in her direction. Cassandra, now only carrying supplies with one arm, placed her free hand casually on her pistol, ready to act on a moment's notice. Her paranoia was still running strong, even though they had only been bothered twice. She would not be killed in such a place as this.

"Is this the way back to the ship?" Lyn asked after a few minutes. "I don't see any docks…"

Cassandra gaped at her in amazement. "You mean to tell me that you just walked off in a random direction?"

"Yup," Lyn told her cheerfully, shifting the load in her arms. "I thought you knew where we were going!"

"I assumed you knew!" Cassandra growled. "I was busy watching out for us!"

Waving the matter aside, Lyn looked up at the sky. "Well, do you know where the dock are from here?"

Following Lyn's gaze, Cassandra carefully noted where the sun was located, glad that the rim of her cowboy hat shielded her eyes from the harsh sunlight. "If we weren't in these damn islands, I could use the sun to find our way back to the docks. As it is…" Sighing in irritation and turning back to her first mate, she hissed out through clenched teeth, "Can't you just remove your soul and see where the docks are?"

"Oh. Right…" Lyn trailed off, having the decency to at least appear sheepish. Eyes widening, Cassandra rushed forward to catch the falling woman, crumpling to the earth as Lyn's soul left her body. "You've really got to remember that you fall over…"

Three seconds later, the first mate opened her eyes, blinking owlishly in the sunlight. "Turn completely around, Captain. We're going the wrong way."

Lightly flicking Lyn's temple in irritation, Cassandra picked herself up and began striding back towards the docks, shaking her head resignedly. _I wonder if she tries to be this careless and carefree_, Cassandra mused. She then remembered Lyn's traumatic childhood, the losses the woman had suffered. Watching her parents burn to death must have triggered some reaction within the woman, causing her to live life to the fullest. Not even that, merely to enjoy herself regardless of the situation.

So deeply focused was she on her thoughts that she ran directly into somebody, falling to the ground in surprise. Her mouth twisted downwards and she sat up, instinctively aiming her pistol at her opponent and tightening her finger on the trigger.

"Watch where you're going!" a small, old woman screeched, waving a wooden cane around erratically.

Cassandra put away her pistol faster than she imagined possible. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't-"

The next thing she knew, she was flat on her back again, staring dazedly at the sky. "I know you didn't! Think before you speak!"

A light hissing sound hung in the air and a large shadow appeared in Cassandra's vision. Rubbing a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth, Cassandra sat up again, wondering exactly what was going on. "Ow…"

To her astonishment, Lyn was standing protectively in front of her, pointing her rapier directly at the woman's forehead. Amazingly enough, she was holding the entire bundle of groceries in her other fist despite their weight. But what surprised Cassandra the most was the hardened glint in the first mate's eyes. It was a glare filled not with killing intent, but with a firm resolution.

"Touch my captain again," Lyn challenged. "I dare you!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Where… is… Black Glove Cassandra?"

Alexander didn't move a muscle, too terrified to speak.

"Where is she?" a voice hissed tonelessly from behind him, pressing the knife harder into his neck.

"Sh-she's out," he managed to say.

"Out where?" the voice asked coldly.

Alexander gulped. "I-I dunno."

"How unfortunate," the voice murmured. "You are of no further use to me."

"Wait, wait!" he shouted in panic. "Please don't kill me! I don't really know her! I-"

"Wrong answer." The knife began to glide across his throat, about to end his life. Instinctively, he twisted away and turned the blade into water. Before he could turn around, he found himself in a headlock, another sharp object pressing into his jugular. "That was unexpected…"

"Listen, I'm part of her crew," he said, growing steadily bolder. "She's off getting help-"

"What kind of help?"

"Could you get your knife away-" he tried.

"What kind of help?"

The alchemist had reached his wit's end. Gathering what confidence he had and praying that he would live to see the sun set again, he filled his chest and shouted furiously, "I will not answer your questions until you reveal yourself. Got it? I will not say another word!"

"Talk to me like that again and I will kill you," the voice breathed. A woman that Alexander didn't recognize stepped out from behind him. She was almost half a head shorter than he was, but despite this, seemed more threatening than Damien usually did. She was clad in a full-body outfit blacker than night, complete with a piece of black cloth covering her nose and mouth, that fit her curvaceous body like a glove. Her hair, as dark as her clothes, trailed behind her in a single ponytail that ran almost to her knees.

But what frightened Alexander the most were her eyes: twin pools so black that light seemed to vanish into them, never to return. Her black irises contrasted sharply with her sclerae, giving her a piercing and analytical stare filled with a soulless quality that made him shiver involuntarily. It wasn't that they were intimidating; it was that they were so devoid of emotion that she seemed completely inhuman.

Gulping audibly, Alexander knew that the woman could kill him in an instant and never think twice.

"Now, tell me what you know or your death will be slow and painful…"

_Damien, please wake up. For my sake_…

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Touch my captain again. I dare you!"

Holding her cane as if it were a sword, the old woman stared right back at the steely first mate. Lyn didn't move a muscle, still possessing that protective glare in her eyes. Suddenly, they both erupted into a series of attacks, barely moving their feet at all. Lyn's conviction never wavered, not even when the cane whizzed within a hairsbreadth of her head. It was as if she had turned into a completely different person, defying Cassandra's previous musings about the first mate.

The old woman gave a toothy grin as her attacks sped up, occasionally flickering through Lyn's defenses. Lyn, for her part, was doing an admiral job of parrying the majority of the blows, showing a skill for her weapon that belied her peaceful years in her convent. Cassandra didn't have time to think about where the first mate had learned such skill as Lyn was forced backwards and would have treaded upon Cassandra's prone body, had the woman not rolled sharply out of the way.

Then, the attacks ceased as abruptly as they had begun. Panting slightly, Lyn lowered her rapier and cocked her head quizzically. "What was that about?

"Pirates these days are weak and pathetic!" the elder woman announced, drawing more than a few unpleasant stares. "Only caring about themselves! It's refreshing to see an almost-forgotten breed: peace main pirates. Plus, I think my granddaughter Sabrina'd like you!"

Lyn nodded politely as she sheathed her rapier. "That was an impressive display of… what do I call it? It was like you were using a sword. But you were using a cane, which isn't a sword, but you used it like one, so-"

"Thank you for the compliment," Cassandra interrupted, clapping Lyn lightly on the back. "I've learned that friendship can be a good thing."

The old woman threw her head back and gave a raucous laugh. "You both amuse me to no end! I'll see you two around!" She walked away, still chuckling merrily to herself. Just as she was about to vanish around a corner, she paused and turned. "That was just a good ol' swashbuckling style, even though I didn't have a buckler! If I find you again, I'll see that you fight me granddaughter!"

Lyn stared after the woman, a look of complete concentration on her face. Then, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, her face split up into a beaming smile. "That was fun!" she commented, swinging the groceries over her shoulder.

Cassandra stared around, completely disagreeing with the first mate's statement. Whether she had meant to or not, the old lady had practically painted a target on their backs by elevating them above the other pirates. She felt like grinding her teeth together, but decided to maintain a placid expression. It wouldn't do to alert her enemies of her irritation, after all. "We're leaving."

"What? Wait- Captain!" Lyn stumbled after the swiftly retreating pirate, oblivious to the looks being cast in her direction. Cassandra lowered her hat over her eyes, giving her a more dangerous appearance and hopefully warding off some of the less intrepid pirates. Of course, this still left her with the more dangerous ones, but in her opinion, the less people that crossed her path, the better.

So concentrated was she on appearing intimidating that she walked forward almost mechanically, paying more attention to the people than her surroundings. In fact, she would have walked straight off the docks and into the ocean had Lyn not grabbed her collar and forcefully yanked her backwards. "Whoa there, Captain. You must be thinking pretty hard to not pay attention to where you're going."

Waving the matter aside, Cassandra turned back to where her ship was docked. She was about to board it when something gave her pause. She cautiously climbed aboard, wondering what was causing her to be so tense. She sniffed the air, but could detect no unusual smells. Frowning slightly, she made her way over to the galley quietly opened the door, trying to make as little noise as possible. Never ceasing to amaze her captain, Lyn picked up on her movements, also treading as lightly as she could.

"What is it?" she whispered as she gently set down the supplies.

"I… don't… know," Cassandra responded. "But something's not right."

"Do you want me to investigate?" Lyn asked.

Cassandra shook her head. Silently exiting the galley, she ascended the stairs to the women's quarters, pushing the door open with the tip of her boot. Her preliminary scan revealed no disturbances, but she still felt uneasy. Choosing not to investigate the room too thoroughly, she instead went to the men's room, hoping that Alexander and Damien had picked up on the threat. But when, she slowly opened the door, all hell broke loose.

Something black came at her fast at an incredible speed. If it weren't for her sharp eyes, she wouldn't have detected it at all. She threw herself backwards, barely avoiding the silver flash that whistled through the area where her throat had been a split-second before. Executing a tight backwards roll, she sprung to her feet and took a quick deep breath. "Voluntas Carnae!"

She unsheathed both of her shoulder knives just as her attacker came for her again. This time, the black blur was much more clearly defined, showing a short black figure with a knife in one hand and a spike in the other. Cassandra parried the knife with one of her own and pushed the spike aside with her knuckles, barely avoiding being stabbed both times. She thrust forward with her right hand, but that was easily deflected to the side, threatening to throw her off balance.

"Not yet," she muttered, spinning swiftly around and driving her elbow towards her opponent's face. Unfortunately, the figure had somehow turned with her, staying at her back the entire time. She cried out in pain as a blade cut deeply into her fingers, forcing her to release her knife. Still turning around, she fumbled for her pistol and brought it out in the nick of time, using the barrel to prevent the blade from penetrating her side.

Then, much to her surprise, the attacks ceased. Spinning around, she aimed her pistol and drew her knife-bearing hand back, ready to throw it at a moment's notice. Her chest was heaving with exertion and her breath came in deep gasps, reminding her that her adrenal system still wasn't used to combat situations. She paused and frowned in confusion, standing up straight as she recognized her attacker. "Raven?"

"Yes." The short woman's voice was smooth and silky, yet carried an emotionless undertone that unnerved the pirate captain. "I have found you at last."

* * *

Raven has found Cassandra at last... Not as mysterious as i would have liked, but it gets the job done, dontcha think?


	15. Upset Harmony

Well, I've decided to try to publish on a more or less consistent schedule. I say 'more or less' because I may occasionally skip a week because of schoolwork, sickness, or lack of internet. But otherwise, weekly sounds about right.

* * *

"Raven?" Cassandra asked in astonishment. "What're you doing here?"

"I have come for you," Raven replied tonelessly.

"To kill me?" Cassandra inquired, covering her bleeding fingers with a scrap of her orange T-shirt.

Raven slowly shook her head. "I owe you my life. It is yours to command."

"Your life is your own," Cassandra said, bewildered. "But, if you want, you can accompany-"

"Wait, what?" Alexander cried out, peeking out from behind the doorframe. "She owes you her life? When did this happen?"

Raven's gaze flickered over to him, causing him to retreat ever so slightly. "Long ago… Are you or are you not part of her crew?"

After hastily putting away her weapons, Cassandra stepped in between them, raising her hands to quell any further argument. "Raven, this is Alexander, my musician. Alexand-"

"Musician?" Raven droned. "What use is a musician on a pirate crew?"

"Morale," Lyn said cheerfully, having dropped off the groceries in the galley. "Plus, when he's not being a lame-ass stick-in-the-mud, he's pretty awesome. His Devil Fruit power is amazing!"

"Thanks for the praise," Alexander mumbled, stepping fully into the sunlight. He looked thoroughly shaken up, sporting a shallow cut across the side of his neck, an injury which hadn't been present when Cassandra had departed from the ship. "But why did you try to kill me?"

"I was not sure about your affiliation," Raven replied. "Though you seemed to pose little threat, it seemed like a better move to kill you rather than to interrogate you." Ignoring his splutters of indignation, she turned back to Cassandra. "Now, who is that man on the floor?"

"That's Damien, our resident bloodthirsty sadist," Lyn chimed in. "And I'm Lyn, the first mate!"

Raven paid no heed to the second introduction, turning all of her attention to the sleeping navigator. "Bloodthirsty sadist?"

Cassandra sighed. "Well, he's technically our navigator, but he goes overboard when his blood gets boiling."

"Is he an Oshu?" Raven inquired, thoroughly confusing the conscious crewmembers.

"I don't think so," Cassandra replied. "But he practically fights like one. I'm looking for a doctor-"

"I can help," Raven deadpanned, eliciting a startled look from Cassandra. "After all, ailing and curing are not so different from one another."

A loud groan interrupted their conversation. All eyes turned to the men's room, where Damien was currently wiggling around, gouging deep grooves into the floor. They watched patiently, waiting for him to wake up. Nothing happened for a moment, then his eyes slowly opened. "Fuck…" he grumbled. The next string of words that trudged from his mouth were similar expletives with no logical connection between them, save for the fact that any of them would have caused appalled gasps from the most cultured audiences and surprised grunts from the least.

"Scurrilous, I see," Raven droned.

"Oh fuck you…" he growled. Then, upon realizing that he didn't know who she was, he sat up and glared. "'Oo're you?"

"I am Raven," she said monotonously.

Damien groaned, closing his eyes once more. Then, with a loud grunt, he heaved himself up, pushing away the charred remains of his hammock. Tightly gripping the door and planting his feet on the floorboards, he stood up and cricked his neck. "Still fuckin' hurts..."

"Maybe trying to train earlier was a bad idea," Cassandra prompted.

Waving his hand dismissively, Damien began to stump towards the door. However, he had barely gone two steps when Raven appeared behind him, holding a knife to his throat. Ignoring Alexander's hands quickly latching onto his trumpet, her eyes remained blank as she stared at the bandaged navigator. "Lay down. Now."

Turning his head to reveal no fear in his eyes, Damien bared his teeth in a dangerous grin. "Don' fuckin' order me, 'ore."

"Now," she breathed, pressing the knife slightly harder into his neck.

Cassandra held out one hand to stop her musician from acting irrationally and put the other hand to her face. "Raven, can you please not go about killing my crewmates? I'd like them to stay alive, if that's to much trouble."

"If you want me to help him, he needs to stay down," Raven responded tonelessly.

"Fine," sighed Cassandra. "Damien, lay down, if you will."

Damien seemed to ponder this for a second, yawning widely as he scratched his cheek. "No. Been down fer too fuckin' long." A hardened light shone in his eyes. "Back th' fuck off."

"Down," Raven replied.

What happened next, nobody could have foreseen.

Two great grey objects shot out of his back, slamming Raven through the far wall and into the men's bathroom. The biggest problem, however, was that Raven hadn't let go of her knife in time. Lyn and Alexander let out cries of alarm as the serrated edge dug into his neck, causing a geyser of blood to spew forth. Damien's jaw fell open in shock, then clenched tightly in rage. Disregarding his profusely bleeding neck, he turned around and glared at Raven. He opened his mouth, but only a harsh hiss came forth. Looking more livid than shocked or scared, he took a threatening step towards the curvaceous woman.

"You have wings," Raven observed, entering through the hole in the wall she had made. "Ordinarily, I would let you die. However…"

Raven vanished and rematerialized in a black blur, appearing not to have budged a bit. Three people stared at her uncomprehendingly, but Cassandra had caught it all. Her keen eyes had seen that the woman had leapt around at blinding speed, snatching a roll of bandages from Alexander's hands and wrapping it around Damien's neck to prevent him from dying of exsanguination. Plucking two vials from seemingly invisible pockets, the petite woman uncorked them and spread them on his neck with one fluid motion. The crew, save Cassandra, watched in awe as she resealed the vials and stashed them away again.

There was a silence, as the crew tried to decide who was more incredible: the navigator or the newcomer.

"You have wings?" Lyn asked in astonishment, having made up her mind.

"When the shamans and I were reconstructing his sorry carcass, he got a tiny bit of input as to what his new body would be like," Alexander answered for the man. "Come on… who would turn down a change to have wings?"

Raven stared evenly at him. "Judging from the facts that they are as hard as steel and were actually inside your body until you spread them out, I would assume that they are made of some flexible metal."

Damien nodded, glaring furiously at her. Alexander piped up, "But how did you move so quickly? I didn't even see you!"

"I see no need to tell you how I did it, but rest assured, this man will live. He might have a scar along his neck, but that as no fault of mine."

Damien gave another furious hiss. Faster than a striking snake, his hand darted out, trying to snag the other woman, but merely closed on thin air. Raven appeared slightly to the left, her black eyes never leaving his own. Baring his teeth in a feral snarl, he latched onto a nearby dresser and easily lifted it over his head. Raven gazed up at this new development, her inky eyes still showing no emotion whatsoever.

"Enough," Cassandra interjected, sensing that things were spiraling rapidly out of control. "The tension in here is thick enough to cut. Lyn, Alexander, I don't care where you go, but stay somewhere on the ship." The pair nodded and reluctantly departed. "As for you two… Damien, ignoring orders is not acceptable aboard this ship. When I tell you to lie down, lie down. There are times in battle where you might perceive something that I do not, but otherwise you need to do as I say. Raven has been killing since she could hold a knife. I've known her to kill without remorse. I've also seen you do the same. I would have thought that you two would get along, though in hindsight it was a rather foolish hope.

"Raven, I know you want to help me, but threatening people doesn't always work. Believe it or not, Damien has slaughtered about as many men in two separate days as you have your entire life. He is reckless, sadistic, amoral, and unpredictable, but he's the best fighter we have. I would like you to patch him up so he can keep protecting the crew, and trying to intimidate him into complying simply will not work. In fact, intimidating anybody aboard this ship is forbidden. Are we clear?"

They continued to eye each other, not moving in the slightest.

"I said, are we clear?" Cassandra repeated, her tone broking no argument.

"Yes," Raven droned.

After Damien nodded as well, Cassandra planted a hand on her hip. "Now I'd like to go elsewhere, but I don't trust the two of you together quite yet. Raven, I believe you have some work to do."

Raven turned to the fuming navigator, her black eyes roving over his scarred form. "Actually, I have some questions which might better be answered outside."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Damien hissed angrily at Raven, his entire body flaming brightly. Cassandra, Alexander, and Lyn watched from the poop deck at the black-clad woman's experiments. Raven was perched on the forecastle railing, staring analytically at the flaming man. "Now, can you actually fly?"

Dreadlocks flying through the air, Damien shook his head. "What is the point of having wings if you cannot fly?" Raven asked tonelessly.

"Who would give up a chance to have wings?" Alexander yelled at her, sliding behind his captain for protection. "Unfortunately, this particular man forgot that his abnormal body weight would prevent him from flying."

"Back on The Charred Island," Cassandra murmured. "You used wings to jump over the wall, didn't you?"

Damien nodded and crouched down, spreading his flaming wings out wide. His wingspan was over fifteen feet in length, casting gigantic shadows across the deck. He flapped his wings experimentally and prepared himself. Then, flexing his wings and pushing as hard as he could off the ground, he leapt clear over the main-mast in a neat front flip. When he landed effortlessly on all fours, the entire deck buckled inward with a series of groans and creaks. Staring at the damaged ship, Cassandra gritted her teeth in annoyance. _Later…_

"Interesting," Raven whispered. "You are indeed a battle machine."

Damien smirked at her, a satisfied light in his eyes.

"Your stout crewmate, on the other hand," Raven said. "How useful is he?"

"I am not a fighter," the alchemist in question called to her. "I'm more of a… support person."

Damien glanced up at the musician, who nodded his head almost imperceptibly. Damien erupted upwards once more and Alexander slowly pulled out his trumpet, fingering it absentmindedly. Cassandra watched in interest, a faint idea of what they were doing bubbling up from the depths of her mind. Just as Damien was about to pulverize the deck once more, Alexander took a deep breath and blew. "Kanonenkugel!"

The force of Alexander's trumpet threw the falling man forward, catching Raven totally unawares. Cassandra saw the small woman begin to leap away, but Damien's hand curled around her arm in an iron grip. Grinning nastily, he hurtled off the ship and crashed into the docks, plowing a deep furrow in the ground. After slowing to a stop, he pushed off using all fours, propelling himself back onto the ship. He slammed the petite woman into the poop deck, pinning her beneath his heavy body.

"Now, how useful am I?" Alexander asked her, placing his hand on her arm. "Acier-"

"Enough, Alexander," Cassandra said. "Raven, I'm ashamed of you. Getting caught off guard so easily."

"I… underestimated them," she hissed. "It will not happen again."

"Can we see what's under your mask?" Lyn chimed in, causing Damien to reach for Raven's face.

"I said, enough." Cassandra's tone sharpened. "Touch her face, and I'll have you in the sickbay for a month." All three pirates froze, staring at their captain in surprise. "Raven has never taken that off in front of anybody befor,e and I don't want to violate her now. Anyway, Raven, how would you like to tag along with us for a bit?"

"Say _what?_" Alexander shouted, accompanied by Damien's furious snarl. "No way!"

"If it would please you," Raven droned tonelessly.

"It would," Cassandra told her, ignoring the men's various noises of protest. "At least until we get to Spring Isle."

Lyn glanced at her. "That's assuming we're going to Spring Isle, right?"

"Eh, we might hit Winter and Autumn along the way," Cassandra said dismissively. "Nevertheless, we need a doctor, and nobody knows the human body better than Raven."

Alexander turned and stormed into the galley, slamming the door behind him. Hoisting Raven into the air, Damien snarled, sending a blast of hot air into her face, and dropped her back to the deck before departing from the ship. Lyn stared at the other two women cheerfully. "That went well."

* * *

Tune in next time for Black Glove Pirates: Chapter Title to be Decided.


	16. Barroom Antics

This chapter was rather short, but I expanded the ending just a tad. To balance out the added words, the introduction must be shortened correspondingly.

* * *

The following night, the male crewmembers had settled down enough to tolerate the mysterious doctor. This meant that Alexander, while still not comfortable around her, ignored the black-clad woman; Damien only tried to kill her once, simmering angrily when Raven disappeared before he could hit her. So, still not trusting the crew enough to leave anybody alone with Raven, Cassandra proposed a group walk through the port city. Seeing as how nobody protested against it, she marched off the ship, listening carefully to make sure all three crewmembers were following her.

As the crew strolled into town, they realized that this truly was a pirate's city on a pirate's island. Bars and brothels stretched for as far as the eye could see, with small houses spattered here and there. The streets weren't overly crowded, but there were small groups of pirates occasionally leaning against a wall or drinking heavily. Unconscious bodies littered the ground, some looking like they'd been in some big brawl, some looking like they'd passed out from alcohol. Thankfully, large lampposts had been placed periodically along the major streets, illuminating the area with large globes of flickering light.

"We're just here for information," Cassandra said in a low voice. "Try not to start anything."

"Well, well, well, what have we here?" a voice called out from a dark alley. "Some little kids got lost and need to find their way home?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Just ignore them."

"C'mon now, that's no way to treat a man!" the voice said, causing hoots and shouts to come from the alleyway. Cassandra beckoned at her crew to follow her into a nearby bar, further ignoring the voice.

The bar was just as loud and noisy as she expected. Some pirates were singing and dancing on or among the tables while others were stuffing their faces and drinking at the bar. A band in the corner was playing a bouncy tune, adding to the jovial air. A thin smoke hung around the ceiling, visible only as it floated past the lights hanging from the ceiling. Cassandra walked right up to the bar, her crew close behind her.

"Ahoy, barman!" Damien roared before his captain could get a word in edgewise. While Raven's cut across his throat miraculously hadn't permanently damaged him, it still left his voice sounding like metal grating against rough stone. "Gimme somethin' strong an' gimme it fast!"

"Aren't you underage?" Lyn asked, looking at the glass bottles curiously.

"And with what money?" Alexander followed up, staring up at his friend in amusement.

Damien ignored them, kicking aside a stool and leaning on the counter. "I'll 'ave what 'e's 'avin'!" he announced, jabbing his thumb at the man next to him. Interestingly enough, he held up his hand when the bartender began to fetch the bottle, causing the portly man to stare at him in confusion. "'Old up there, barman! On second though', I think I'll-"

"Oh dear god, what is that!" Alexander shouted, causing the entire bar to look over to where he was pointing. Quick as a flash, Damien stole the mugs closest to him, downing them before their owners could react. Almost the entire bar erupted into laughter when the patrons realized what he had done.

The pirates he had stolen from, however, were not as amused. "You're gonna pay for that," the man next to him growled, rolling back his sleeves. "Yo, barman, get me another on the double while I deal with this scum!"

Cassandra sighed and turned around, sensing that all hopes of gathering information was null and void. She paused at the door, looking back in time to see the man punch Damien as hard as he could while Lyn pilfered his drink, sampling it cautiously. Rolling her eyes as every bone in the man's hand broke with several loud _crack_s, she continued outside, noting that Raven had materialized behind her. Without looking back, she sighed as she realized that none of her crew had followed her outside. "Why is it that you are more loyal to me than my entire crew put together?" she wondered aloud.

"Do you want me to get rid of them?" Raven asked, knives somehow materializing in her hands.

"It was a rhetorical question and no, thank you," Cassandra told her. "I just wish they'd-"

"All men and women accounted for, Captain!" She twisted her neck around and raised an eyebrow. Alexander and Lyn were standing at attention, hands held in a sharp salute. A fuming Damien stood behind them, looking like he'd rather be back stealing drinks in the bar. "Reporting for duty!"

Cassandra smirked as she faced her first mate. "You heard me, didn't you?"

"Maybe," Lyn grinned, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes.

"Come on," Cassandra said, shaking her head. "Let's try the next one. And let me do the talking this time, okay?"

Upon receiving nods from her four followers, she walked some distance down the street, picking another bar at random. This one was less festive than the other one, a definite aura of danger hanging about the place. Cassandra rather liked the feeling; it was almost an unspoken challenge to enter the bar. Glancing back to make sure there were still four people behind her, she wandered inside, making her way to the counter.

The pirates at this establishment contrasted sharply with the other pirates in the city. While most, if not all of the others were loud, boisterous, and rude, these men were calm and collected. Instead of laughing and partying, they were completely ignoring one another. It was as if speaking was prohibited. Cassandra immediately realized why she had sensed the danger of this bar: each one of these pirates acted like a mercenary working for a strict commander. They seemed to lack cohesiveness as a unit, but any one-on-one encounter could prove to be fatal.

Raising the corner of her mouth the slightest bit, she leaned expectantly on the bar top, clearing her throat to attract the barkeep's attention. Before she could make a sound, the man turned and stared at her questioningly. "Who're you?"

"The Black Glove Pirates," she responded easily. "Listen, we need to-"

"You-you're not of Madaxe's crew?" the barman stuttered.

"No…" Cassandra said. "Why?"

"This is his bar. Nobody but he and his crew are allowed in here."

"Now, now, Jason," a loud voice boomed form behind them. "Be polite t' this 'ere ladee."

Cassandra turned around and gazed upwards, raising an eyebrow in surprise. A man, around four meters in height, was looking down into her eyes with a small smirk on his lips. His hair was hidden behind a dark yellow bandana, giving him a roguish air. His enormous muscles rippled underneath his sleeveless green shirt every time he moved. Unfathomable strength lay within his bulky frame, as was proved by the great battleaxe attached to his back. It was a green and white axe, almost as big as he was, with a blade that swept downwards slightly and a poll that ended in a stunted hammer. Clearly, this was not a man to be messed with.

The man's grinned widened as she looked at his weapon. "I see yer eyein' Basilikos, th' great battleaxe o' th' west. This 'ere axe is me greatest treasure. Many men 'ave tried to get it, aye, but they've all died. That's why I'm Captain Darren Madaxe, 'older o' a 103,000,000 Beli bounty, th' most in West Blue if yer wonderin', maybe the most on this 'alf o' th' world, an' son o' Dart Madaxe 'imself, one o' th' Shichibukai."

Cassandra nearly gasped aloud. This was by far the most impressive resume she had ever heard for a pirate. While bounties didn't necessarily reflect the power of the holder, this man obviously had earned his. Why this man was merely sitting in a bar instead of wreaking havoc upon the world was completely beyond her. Plus, he was the son of one of the legendary Shichibukai? She looked upon this man with a new light in her eyes.

"Forgive me for intruding upon your bar, sir," she said, praying that her slight fear was not evident in her speech. "We were just about to leave…"

"Nonsense!" Madaxe laughed. "Yore just scared o' me! Ah well, 'tis only natural." His gaze drifted downwards from her eyes and settled on her chest. "Why dontcha stay a while, mebbe get a drink 'r two?"

Raven stepped in between them, causing Madaxe to stare curiously at her. "Keep your eyes on her face."

Smirk widening even further, he truly looked at her for the first time, his eyes roving over her body as well. "Pretty girls should know their place. Per'aps you might like t' join us too, eh?"

The doctor remained silent.

"Speechless, eh? Well, I'm th' best in th' land! 'Tis natural t' be a wee bit scared."

At this, Damien stepped forward, his hand clenched into a fist. "Best in th' land? Cocky bastard, aren' ya?"

"And who might you be, runt?" Madaxe rumbled, glaring down at Damien.

"Somebody 'oo's gonna kick yer ass if you don' fuck off righ' now."

Cassandra groaned loudly, certain that things were spiraling out of control. "Damien, for the sake of your life, shut the hell up."

Madaxe put his hand on Basilikos' handle, leering down at him. "You've got a smart mouth, aye, too smart I say. How'd you like t' lose yer tongue, laddie?"

Sensing that Damien was about to respond in a way that would most certainly not help the situation, Cassandra quickly jumped in front of him and extended her hands imploringly towards Madaxe. "Please sir, forgive my navigator. He is new to piracy and unused to respect towards his betters."

"New t' piracy? Betters?" Damien growled indignantly under his breath. Lyn stomped on his foot.

Madaxe chuckled unnervingly. "Well, in piratin', you either respec' yer elders n' betters, or yore dead."

"Listen 'ere, you dickless shitstain," Damien snarled. "Ya may be m' elder, but we'll see if yer my better!" And with that, he flicked his fingers outwards. With a small zipping sound, the ten claws on his hands shot out, as shiny and sharp as glass shards.

Madaxe's laugh turned to a furious growl at the insult, but was completely unfazed at Damien's unusual gift. "Th' lad needs a teacher, an' pain is th' best teacher there is. Phys'cal pain heals, but let's see 'im try losin' a friend!" And with that, Madaxe drew Basilikos and swung it around, aiming for the three people beside Damien: Alexander, Lyn, and Raven.

Faster than lightning, Damien threw out an arm and caught the blade in his hand, ignoring the keen edge biting deeply into his flesh. "Your fight is with me, motherfucker!"

Letting Madaxe wrench the axe free and revealing the carmine gash across his hand, Damien drove his fist into Madaxe's body with a "Diavolo Gorilla!" sending the enormous man crashing into the myriad of bottles lining the far wall. In the blink of an eye, Cassandra had drawn her pistols and trained them on the two men she deemed to be most potentially harmful to the navigator: the barman and another who could possibly be the first mate. Raven crouched on the shoulders of a third, a razor-sharp knife curving around the man's neck. Lyn and Alexander cheered for their crewmate, relieved expressions showing through their joyous facades. The other pirates merely stared on in shock, watching the proceedings with morbid fascination.

"You'll pay for that!" Madaxe roared as he pushed himself from the wreckage, swinging Basilikos around with all of his considerable might. "Berserker _Smash!_"

The entire scene seemed to proceed in slow motion. Damien, who had been leaping at the enormous pirate, received the full force of the blow. He fell slowly as if through gelatin, a shocked expression stamped onto his face. Blood hung in the air like liquid rubies as it streamed from the deep gash marring his left arm from knuckle to shoulder. After hovering in the air for what seemed like an eternity, he slammed into the ground and did a sort of bounce cum roll through the legs of tables, chairs, and pirates. His head was knocked violently forwards as he hit the wall and broke out into the street. Cassandra stared in mute astonishment as Lyn covered her mouth in a silent scream.

"That is going to scar," Raven said idly, staring after the fallen man.

Despite his close relationship to the injured navigator, Alexander remained remarkably calm. "I know I should've gotten him a collar," he muttered under his breath as he pushed past the crowded pirates, even using his trumpet at one point to knock a few out of his way.

Madaxe shouldered Basilikos and let loose a loud, booming laugh. "So, th' runt shows 'is skill, or lack thereof. Well, 'is loss, I say!" Brushing shattered glass from his massive form, he continued laughing as he turned back to the ruined bar. "Jason, wha've y…"

The blow to his chest took its belated toll on his health, causing him to slump to the splintered wood, unconscious. Cassandra, eyeing the rest of the patrons warily, decided that it was time to make a speedy exit. Keeping her weapons trained on the stone-faced patrons, she retreated through swinging doors, Lyn and Raven right on her heels. While checking to make sure that nobody was vengefully following them, she turned to Alexander, who was busy trying to get Damien up. "Is he alive?"

"Yes." Surprisingly enough, both Alexander and Raven responded, though one sounded considerably more relieved than the other. Ignoring this oddity, she stared at her navigator contemplatively. After watching Alexander struggle for a little longer, Cassandra and Lyn gripped Damien's arms as well and they started the painfully slow task of dragging him back to the ship.

Cassandra sighed deeply, shaking her head in wonder. "I don't understand him. Why did he jump in front of the blade?"

Alexander looked up from his constantly slipping grip on Damien's bloody left hand. "He values the life of his friends over his own. He did it all the time when we were kids."

"I dunno about that…" Lyn ducked as a drunken man flew out of a bar, narrowly missing her head. "But I do know is Damien just saved both of our lives. We couldn'ta taken a blow from that monster axe and lived."

The pirate captain nodded solemnly. "That's gonna scar for sure."

"If he hadn't had metal bones, he would be dead too," Lyn mused aloud and shuddered.

Cassandra grimaced as they neared the docks. "I hope he's all right."

"I can aid you there," Raven whispered, causing them all to look at her in surprise. "If his survival increases Cassandra's in any way, shape or form, I will do my best to heal him."

"I do wha' I want," Damien growled, having regained his senses. "Now get the fuck offa me!"

All three pirates dropped him on the ground in surprise and almost collapsed, panting heavily. "How much do you weigh?" Lyn asked, rubbing her sore arms.

Damien shrugged and got to his feet, his face contorted in an agonized grin. Then, to everybody's surprise, he clutched his left arm and began stumbling back towards the town. "I'm gonna kill 'im," he snarled viciously. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'im. Even if it's th' last thing I do, I'm gonna fuckin' kill 'im. First, I'll break every fuckin' one of 'is shitstained fingers, then I'll rip off 'is legs an-"

"You're not going anywhere," Cassandra said. "Except back to the ship."

Damien turned around and started towards the town, not bothering to face them as he spoke. "I ain' lettin' this slide, Cap'n."

Cassandra turned to Raven, who closed her eyes and nodded. Then, when she opened her eyes, the petite doctor unleashed such a powerful wave of killing intent that Lyn and Alexander reeled backwards in shock. Even the pirate captain couldn't help but shudder slightly as a chill ran down her spine. Her fear quickly gave way to amazement as the temperature around them suddenly skyrocketed uncomfortably. Showing no trace of fear whatsoever, Damien looked back at the smaller woman, flames licking his right fist and bloodlust dancing in his grass green eyes. "Nice try, 'ore."

Raven showed no emotion, but Cassandra knew the smaller woman was just as shocked as she was. "Rest until you are better," she droned after a weighty pause.

Damien stared at them for an unimaginably long time, causing everybody to grow slightly uncomfortable. They all nearly had heart attacks when he smirked and growled a resolute, "No."

* * *

I'll add here that any reference to any of my favorite video games are for all intents and purposes unintentional. If you know what I'm talking about, kudos. If not, you're missing out.

And for the rare few of you who bother to check this story, I hope that you notice that quite a bit has been added. The next chapter grew too big for its boots, so to speak, and needed to be toned down.


	17. Nightmares and Dreams

And continuing off of last week's cliffhanger, here's the seventeenth installment of the Black Glove Pirates. Enjoy.

* * *

"No." Damien's muscles rippled underneath his scarred chocolate skin as he began stalking back towards the main city.

Cassandra could not believe this. Why was he choosing now to rebel? "I am your Captain," she told him sharply as she walked directly in his path. "And you will obey my orders."

"I. Am. Takin'. Revenge." The words coming from his mouth both enraged and frightened her.

"My word is law," she hissed, her eyes hardening. "You are being unreasonable, illogical, and childish. What can you possibly hope to accomplish in this situation? You're weakened from blood loss. If you move your arm any more, it could fall apart. Your opponent is unconscious; you knocked him out with a single punch. That should be enough for now. I know I can't stop you from seeking him out _later_, but right now, you need to rest. I command you to rest. Captain's Orders."

Still staring at her, the berserker drew himself up, flames furiously licking his body. Cassandra willed herself not to flinch, needing to assert her authority over him. In her peripheral vision, she could see Lyn's face, covered in amazement, and Alexander's, filled with horror from the proceedings. Finally, after an unimaginably long time, the crazed navigator leaned in and stared right into her eyes, baring his teeth in a malicious smile. "I'm going."

She stood stock still, shocked beyond belief. Her mind simply shut down as he easily pushed her out of his way. Here he was, her own crewmember, defying her orders. She was surprised at the unadulterated rage leaking from him, manifesting in painfully hot flames. Part of her mind wasn't surprised at the berserk man's rebellion, but another part simply felt defeat. What kind of captain was she if she could convince her crew to stay alive?

Alexander, showing a rare display of courage, stepped in front of his wounded friend. "Damien, you dumbass, listen to reason. Didn't you hear what Captian said? You knocked a Shichibukai's son unconscious in one punch. Isn't that enough? What sense is there further crippling your fighting prowess simply to exact revenge? Madaxe will still be there tomorrow. Hell, he'll be itching to get a rematch with you, too. Can't you just wait until tomorrow, at least?"

"Get the fuck out o' my way, Songbird," Damien snarled, his sadistic smile gone in a flash. "I ain't gonna hurtcha."

"Mate, I'm not movin'," Alexander shot back, the amused grin on his lips clashing with the desperate light in his bespectacled eyes.

Damien, who seemed too angry to realize that he could simply move around or jump over the stubborn musician, cracked his knuckles challengingly. "Now, Songbird."

Alexander reached up and put a single finger on Damien's forehead, forcing the navigator to immediately extinguish all flames from his head to avoid injuring his friend. "Hothead, come on. Captain's Orders say you have to back down."

While the alchemist had previously been successful in reigning in the berserker's wild temper, his last words proved to be immensely detrimental. Damien whirled upon Cassandra, setting his head ablaze once more. "Orders, eh? Fancy changin' 'em, Cap'n?"

At this point, Cassandra was sure that nothing could surprise her anymore. Her heart nearly gave out, however, when Raven materialized in front of Damien, staring evenly up at him. "Do not touch Cassandra."

"Out o' my way, cunt," he spat, moving as if to push her aside. Or worse.

"Orsk Dulug." Faster than the human eye could see, Raven flickered over to Cassandra, snatched one of her knives from her shoulder holster, appeared back in front of Damien, and drove the butt of the small weapon into his wounded throat. After reeling back in pain, Damien gave a furious roar and lunged at the smaller woman. She disappeared in a black blur, reappearing on the branch of a nearby tree. "How do you expect to take on Madaxe with so little speed?" she droned.

"Do you have a death wish?" Lyn shouted as Damien exploded into the air, blazing more brightly than before.

Mouth gaping open, Cassandra shook her head in amazement as Damien crushed the tree with a cry of "Diavolo Falcone!" She could not believe what she was seeing. Raven, who had never lifted a finger to help out anybody, reappeared farther away, obviously leading him back to the ship. The priate captain was clueless of her friend's motives. She could only hope that they were even remotely unselfish. The flaming berserker was pulverizing anybody and anything between him and the daring woman with an ever-growing rage, only one target in his crazed mind. Cassandra shook her head at the stupidity of the situation, but was relieved that she would not have to add a crewmember's possible death to her conscience.

Wordlessly following them, she watched as they neared the _Howling Knave_, where Raven was perched tauntingly on the railing. Then, just as Damien was about to turn her precious _Knave_ into a mass of charred toothpicks, Raven reappeared behind him, slamming the heel of her hand into his back. His enraged roars tapered off as he sunk to his knees, staring uncomprehendingly forward. And just like when the pair had first met, he extended his wings, sending her flying backwards. He then faceplanted onto the docks, flames sputtering as they faded from existence.

"Why did she do that?" Alexander asked quietly, anger lacing his otherwise casual tone. "Did she kill him?

"She just got him back to the ship alive," Cassandra whispered, more for her own benefit than for Alexander's. "I can't believe it…"

Raven slowly climbed to her feet, a nearly undetectable spasm almost sending her to the ground. She looked back at the shocked pirates and raised her left arm, causing the spike attached to her wrist to disappear. "Navigator subdued."

"Thank the spirits," Lyn whispered, dramatically placing a hand on her heart.

"Am I the only one who didn't like the fact that she just stabbed him?" Alexander asked incredulously.

"Damien probably is," Lyn joked as Raven slowly walked back to them.

"Enough," Cassandra ordered tiredly. "Alexander, understand that our friend was pretty much out of control and that Raven was the only one able to reduce the death toll to zero. Can we please get back to the ship now?"

Alexander shook his head angrily. "Out of control? Did any of what just happened get through to you, Captain? He wouldn't actually have hurt you at all. He doesn't let harm come to his friends and he sure as shit doesn't harm them himself."

"He nearly killed me," Raven reminded him.

"You nearly cut his damn throat open yesterday," Alexander snapped at her, for once not showing a trace of fear. "Would you consider somebody like that a friend?"

"Calm down, man," Lyn said, holding her hands up. "All's well that ends well, right?"

Alexander spluttered furiously, evidently believing that having his friend stabbed in the back did not fall under the 'ends well' category. Cassandra rubbed her temples, her own temper beginning to fray. "What is with you two from Charred Island? Alexander, I'm sorry about not taking the time to try to reason with him. Can you please just forgive me?"

After a short pause, Alexander grudgingly nodded, tugging slightly at the tie around his neck and mumbling something about 'waking up soon'. Satisfied with his reaction, Cassandra started off towards the _Howling Knave_. Alexander started reluctantly after her, with Lyn and Raven trailing behind. Glancing backwards, she saw with despair that Lyn was staring fearfully at the downed navigator while Alexander still looked unhappy with the situation. She sighed and shook her head sadly. _The Black Glove Pirates will never be known for their unity_…

As she approached her ship, she thought miserably about what a pathetic job she was doing as a captain. Apparently feeling her captain's distress, Lyn threw an arm across Cassandra's shoulders in an attempt to comfort the woman. Cassandra nodded gratefully and turned back to her goal, surprised at how far they had traversed in such a short time. Feeling the need to think more, she veered off to the left, intent on walking a bit farther across the docks.

She was mildly surprised when Lyn's one-armed hug never ceased. The first mate was strolling merrily beside her, staring in wide-eyed amazement at the ships they were passing by. Even though she couldn't hear any other footsteps, she knew that Raven was also right behind her. But what startled Cassandra the most was the sound of dress shoes clacking noisily across the wooden boards, indicating that Alexander had followed her despite his current state of displeasure.

"Why are you still following me?" she asked hollowly. "Aren't you mad at me for knocking Damien out?"

Alexander took a slow breath. "I may be mad, but I would never stop following you. Quick token of pirate knowledge: a crew always cares for three things: their assigned tasks, each other, and, above all, their captain. I may not like your decision, Captain, but I will stand with you until the ends of time."

"We've got your back, Captain," Lyn murmured. "Don't look so sad. We owe you more than you can imagine and for that, you have my full support."

"Despite the fact that I am not a pirate, you have mine as well," Raven droned emotionlessly.

A loud eruption of stone beside caused the pirates to nearly jump out of their skins. Shaking the errant shards of rock from his shoulders, Damien clambered to his feet, glancing with some satisfaction at the crater he had made in the stone path next to the docks. "An' me, Cap'n."

Raven appeared at his side, staring at him intently. Pointedly ignoring her, he fell in line beside Alexander, who looked absolutely thrilled that his friend had woken up. The musician was babbling about "poison passing through his system at an accelerated rate" or something. Cassandra chuckled lightly to herself. Between her first mate's ever-cheerful attitude, her navigator's unpredictability, and her musician's loyalty, she knew that her days with them would certainly never be boring._ Maybe I'm not such a bad Captain after all_, she thought. _If, in spite of all this disturbance, they are willing to follow me for whatever reason, I must be doing something right. But why does it feel like I'm missing something? I mean, besides a few other crewmembers, like a doctor and a shipwright, what else do I need? I need something, but what is it?_

"Thanks you guys. Lyn, you're the best damn first mate a captain's ever had. Seriously, you always know how to cheer me up. Alexander, feel free to criticize me and show me the ropes, so to speak. After all, you've been around pirates for far longer than I have. Damien, if you ever pull something like that again, remember that Captain's Orders, with capital letters, are to be taken seriously. I won't use them often, as we all seem to have a problem with authority and prefer to ignore it, but when I use them, heed them."

"Group hug!" Lyn declared, grabbing those closest to her (Cassandra and Raven) into a tight embrace.

"Fuck no," Damien said with a small laugh, no trace of anger in his voice.

"I'm with Hothead," Alexander agreed as Raven slipped from Lyn's grip like a slippery bar of soap. "You two can have your own moment."

Lyn looked so wounded at this that Cassandra took pity on the poor woman. "It's okay, Lyn. Just imagine that everybody grew very, very tiny and are hugging us-"

Suddenly, Cassandra stopped and stared to the side, something interesting catching her eyes. Three enormous statues that were previously hidden by an abnormally large house now loomed on pedestals not fifty feet away, causing her to wonder how she had missed them earlier. They were cast in solid gold, shining brightly in the sunlight. Cassandra was amazed that this much gold still survived in a pirate's haven. Ignoring her puzzled crewmembers, she walked towards them, eyeing them curiously.

The first one was a tall, broad-shouldered man, a majestic red captain's cloak draped across his shoulders. His moustache angled gracefully away from his face, resting atop his fearless grin. His spiky hair fell down about his face, making his hooded eyes more prominent. His crossed arms and his widely planted boots gave him a challenging air, as if daring anybody to desecrate his statue. Even though it was merely a statue, Cassandra could feel the raw power the man seemed to possess.

The second was a much younger and thinner man, dressed only in shorts, sandals, and a red vest. His arms were held akimbo as he stared out over the city, a cheerful laugh plastered on his face. A stitched scar curved under his left eye, an interesting detail to include in such a statue. His similarly spiky hair was kept in check by a straw hat perched atop his head, a red ribbon wrapped above the rim.

The third man was neither as stocky as the first nor as lanky as the second. His toned torso was partially covered by an unzipped hoodie, the gold clearly accentuating his muscles. His long pants draped over his bare feet, which were held in an easy position. One of his hands was tucked into his pocket, the other up in a casual greeting. His wild crimson hair floated in a nonexistent wind, almost blowing into his careless smile.

Cassandra strolled up to the statues, glancing at the plaques on the pedestals. The first read _Gol D. Roger, First King of the Pirates_. She quickly walked over to the second, _Monkey D. Luffy, Second King of the Pirates_, and finally the third, _Gar D. Bol, Third King of the Pirates_. "Why are these men called Pirate Kings?" she asked aloud.

"The Pirate Kings?" Alexander asked, looking delighted at the prospect of sharing another tidbit of pirate knowledge. "These are the three men who had found the legendary treasure called One Piece. Gol D. Roger was the first to collect the treasure, but he was executed shortly afterwards. Monkey D. Luffy found it about twenty years later, but never revealed its location or even what it was. I don't quite remember when he died. And finally, Gar D. Bol found it much, much later. He claimed to have relocated it to a secret position that only the truest of pirates could find."

She grinned as she stared up at the gigantic gold statues, a final puzzle piece clicking into place. After aimlessly wandering through the seas for almost a month, she realized what her dream was, how to make sure she could prove that she wasn't worthless. "If my father won't let me inherit his title, I'll have to create my own." She held out her hands, palms facing out, and put her thumbs together. Staring through the makeshift frame, she pictured what the plaque would say. "Cassandra Negras, First Queen of the Pirates."

"Sounds great, Captain!" Lyn shouted, startling Cassandra slightly. "As Queen, you're gonna see the entire world, right? That's good; I wanna see what's at the end of the earth."

"An' th' Queen'll need a good fighter t' keep 'er alive," Damien rumbled, a dangerous tone creeping back into his voice. "I'm gonna kill th' Fleet Admiral. After tha', I'm gonna be th' best fighter in all th' seas.

"We are going to talk to the Fleet Admiral," Alexander told him, thunking him lightly on the head. "Not kill him. You don't think that'd give me a bad reputation if I wanna be a world-renown musician?"

Cassandra glanced at him. "Not _the_ best?"

Alexander shook his head. "World recognition is good enough."

"What about you, Raven?" Lyn asked cheerily. "Do you have a life dream?"

Raven remained silent as she gazed up at the statues emotionlessly. After a long pause, Cassandra turned and walked back to her precious _Knave_, hearing her crew following after staring at the statues for a bit longer. After they arrived and climbed aboard, Lyn and Cassandra vanished into the galley for a moment while Alexander, Damien, and Raven all went below to the medical ward. Allowing a small grin to creep onto her face, the pirate captain mulled over the night's events. She had never expected so much to happen in such a small period of time. Shaking her head at it all, Cassandra began to take out some cookware and was about to start making dinner when a loud stream of curses reached her ears.

"He sounds fine to me," Lyn said lightheartedly from the table. "I wonder what's going on." She got up and left. Cassandra put back the pot she had taken out and followed her. Upon descending into the medical ward, they halted and stared.

Alexander was tangled in a net in the corner with a dazed look on his face. Raven was sewing Damien's arm shut with what seemed like wire while glaring at Damien. The berserker was standing in the middle of the ward and baring his teeth at her, both of his eyes spouting flames. He seemed to be rattling off the longest and most varied string of curses known to man while simultaneously laughing at Alexander's predicament.

"What is going on here?" Cassandra asked with an air of authority and bewilderment.

"He would not hold still," Raven said simply, forcing the needle in and out of Damien's skin.

"Bilge-suckin' pox-ridd'n bird-fuckin' wench insisted 'n usin' wire t' sew m' arm shut," Damien hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

Cassandra turned to Alexander, who was getting up and cradling his head in his hands. "And what's your story?"

"Damien was thrashing about for a bit and _accidentally_ knocked me over here," he said dazedly. "I have a slight headache."

Lyn laughed loudly, causing Alexander to wince and cast an angry look her way. "Sorry," Lyn chuckled. "Why're you using wire?"

"He can burn normal string, so I must resort to other means to stitch his wounds," Raven said, using a pair of clippers to sever the wire. "I am finished."

"Yer going t' hell if I 'ave t' push you down m'self," Damien snarled as Alexander tossed over a roll of bandages.

Raven started bandaging his arm up. "You can try."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Alexander, are you okay?"

"Fine," he mumbled, quickly sorting through an assortment of pills and occasionally throwing one down his throat. "Just need a pill or two and some rest. And why the hell is there a net in the medical ward?"

"No idea. Put this away," Raven commanded, throwing the roll of bandages back at Alexander. He groaned and started putting the bottles back in some random order.

Silence descended on the medical ward, only broken by the light _clink_ of the bottles knocking into one another. Finally, despite his willingness to forget about the situation, Cassandra glanced at her navigator and quietly asked, "Why did you obey my orders on Fascrion and not here?"

Damien stared back at her, looking completely unapologetic. "'Twas jus' a good ol' test o' strength on Fascrion. 'Ere, th' bastard's managed t' land one 'elluva blow. 'Tis only fittin' tha' I give 'im a proper one soon as I can."

"Ignore her orders again and I will kill you," Raven told him, finishing wrapping his bandages. "Regardless of where you are and where I am, I will find you and I will kill you."

"You can try," Damien shot back, echoing her previous words. Then, with a faint trace of irritation in his voice, "Th' fuck'd ya do t' me, whore?"

"What are you talking about?" Raven asked over her shoulder as she wiped up the blood from the floor and table.

"I can' move m' arm," he informed her.

Everybody froze at this. "What do you mean, you can't move your arm?" Cassandra inquired tentatively.

Damien slammed his right hand into one of the beds, sending it flying through the wall. "I mean, I can' move me fuckin' arm!" Raven picked up her needle again and stabbed it into Damien's arm. "Ow! Th' fuck was tha' for, fuckin' 'arlot?"

"To test exactly what happened to your arm," she replied. "Can you stand up and light yourself on fire for me?"

Damien glared at her and stood up straight, his left arm swinging uselessly at his side. His body started to smoke, then erupted into flames. Everything was aflame except for his left arm, which remained as flameless and bandaged as ever. Raven stared at him, apparently deep in thought.

"It appears that you still have all your sensory nerves," she started.

"Nice observation, fuckwit," he snarled. Cassandra shushed him.

"But you have no control over it whatsoever," Raven continued, undaunted. "You may regain control over it eventually, but not for a long while…"

Damien groaned and slumped down on the floor, staring angrily at the ground. They all stared at him for a moment, then Lyn sat down next to him. Alexander had recovered enough to sit down on the other side of him, murmuring his condolences. Damien growled half-heartedly in Alexander's direction, but otherwise didn't move. Raven looked at him coolly, and then went over to medical supplies on their shelves, rearranging them into their correct order. Cassandra sighed and knelt down in front of them.

"You okay?" she said gently. Damien glared at her, fire dancing in his eyes. She shook her head at her own stupidity. "Of course you're not okay. We'll stay here for a bit, unless you want to leave, of course. I may be the captain, but you're the navigator"

"We fuckin' stay," he grunted laconically.

Cassandra nodded understandingly. "Then we'll stay."

They all lapsed into silence. A few silent minutes went by, in which Raven had somehow vanished without anybody noticing. Eventually, one by one, they got up and left, leaving Damien staring at the floorboards. Cassandra looked back as she closed the door.

"I hope he'll be okay," she muttered to nobody in particular.

"He'll be fine," Alexander said, startling Cassandra slightly. "He's tough."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Cassandra replied. "I fear that he'll grow even more unpredictable. You understand that why I'm concerned?"

"This is about his ignoring orders, right?" Alexander sighed. "Look, I really don't want you to turn us away because-"

"You will not be turned away for his behavior." The instant the words left her mouth, she regretted them instantly. Alexander's face darkened in an uncharacteristically furious expression, not dissimilar to Damien's usual face. "I'm sorry, Alexander. I didn't mean them like-"

"I know what you meant," he said sharply. "But where he goes, I go. He would never hurt any of us. Ever. I have my complete trust in him and you should to. Here's some advice from my experience with pirates. A pirate captain should have as much faith in her crew as her crew has in their captain. You would do well to remember that."

With that, he spun around and strode away. Cassandra stared after him and sighed sadly. "Nothing is ever easy."

* * *

An interesting chapter, don't you think? Aside from a tiny bit of egotism (if you can't spot it, I'm not helping you), I think it went pretty well. So, let's finish it off with a brief recap of the crew's dreams:

Cassandra: Wants to become First Queen of the Pirates  
Lyn: Wants to see the ends of the earth  
Damien: Wants the Fleet Admiral's head on a pike  
Alexander: Wants to calmly talk to the Fleet Admiral about the atrocities that Marines are committing

See you all next time...


	18. The Summer Isle Coliseum

A semi-piratical captain, a carefree first mate, an psychopathic navigator and a refined musician all reappear once more for the eighteenth chapter of Black Glove Pirates. I simply love these guys.

* * *

Cassandra strode down the crowded town street, glancing about every so often. This time, they decided to enter the city during the day, a time of day in which the city was significantly more peaceful. The pirates were less prone to fighting after morning, either from laziness or drunken hangovers. Clearly, the city was the safest when the sun was up.

More importantly, her crew seemed to have completely forgiven and forgotten the previous day's chaotic events. Lyn, not really having been affected by the shocking happenings, had finished carving the crew's four faces above the galley door with her usual merry attitude. After being injected with enough tranquilizers to knock out a bull snow elephant, Damien slept peacefully in the medical ward, though his face seemed to be locked in an irritated frown. Alexander found out that Cassandra knew how to play chess and, after swiftly using his powers to make a board and pieces, proceeded to repeatedly humiliate her for over an hour, all the while teaching her everything from strategy to piracy.

Raven had vanished a short time after sewing Damien's arm shut, making it quite clear that she was not part of the Black Glove Pirates. She did, however, appear on the ship as the crew, sans the resting berserker, departed for town. Much to Cassandra's surprise, she vowed to keep Damien under close surveillance and to make sure he didn't do anything foolish. When questioned about her motives behind this task, she merely stared at Cassandra and refused to say any more.

"There's Madaxe's bar," Alexander whispered as they passed the large building, an uncharacteristic note of rage in his voice. He made as if to go towards it, but Lyn restrained him by putting a hand on his shoulder and shaking her head. He angrily threw her hand off, staring resentfully at the wooden doors.

"You would die if you even thought about taking him on," Lyn said, trying to reason with him. "You just spent yesterday convincing Damien, whose fighting skill far outstrips your own, not to charge in there. Remember your words?"

Alexander nodded sullenly and turned back to the street. Clearly, his friend's crippling injury had upset him greatly, infecting him with Damien's absurd recklessness. Cassandra opened her mouth in an attempt to comfort him, but she couldn't seem to find the right words. She sighed and turned away, feeling like she should be able to do something. She was startled from her thoughts when Alexander suddenly asked, "Was it really okay to leave him on the ship asleep and alone with _her_?"

"She won't kill him," Cassandra told him. "And she won't let him kill her, ei-"

"Hey look!" Lyn cut in, pointing wildly at a nearby structure. "A store!"

Sighing at the fact that the interruption, Cassandra glanced to her left and, sure enough, a general store, easily five times bigger than the surrounding buildings, sat between a large bar and a medium-sized house. "Very well. There's something I want to get anyway."

"Didn't you and Lyn get groceries a day or two ago?" Alexander asked.

"Yes," Cassandra stated. "But I don't want food this time."

They strode inside, staring casually around. Cassandra made a dismissive hand motion, signaling for them to split up. After noticing with some satisfaction that they actually got the hint and wandered deeper into the store, she walked up to the counter and planted her hands down firmly, showing that she meant business. "Do you have any good rifles?"

"Do I?" the fat shopkeeper asked rhetorically. "I have enough rifles to satisfy you, yer gran'children, and yer gran'children's gran-"

"I got it," Cassandra cut in. "How about long-range sniper rifles?"

"Milady, I have just the thing for you," he grinned, holding up a finger, indicating that she should stay put. He quickly vanished through the door behind him, reappearing an instant later with a grossly elongated rifle. "One point seven five meters long to ensure a perfect shot," he said enthusiastically. "The handle is made of solid maple, the barrel of the finest steel available. It takes two centimeter rounds, so you'll have to acquire them as well. It even comes with a set of lenses that will magnify anything exponentially, a mighty fine scope. It can only shoot one bullet before needing to be reloaded, but if yer planning on doing some long-range sniping, this shouldn't be too much of a problem."

"Fantastic," Cassandra said. "How much for it?"

"1,100,000 Beli," the shopkeeper offered.

"Outrageous," Cassandra countered, knowing that the single-shot gun was probably worth 700,000 at the most, but unwilling to make that low a counteroffer. "I'll pay 750,000 and not a Beli more."

"Miss, you've got to be out of your mind. But yer pretty, so I'll go to 900,000 and no lower."

"775,000."

"850,000. That's me final offer."

Cassandra saw an amused grin creep onto his face and frowned, trying to see what he was playing at. Watching his eyes as they glided down to her weapons, she decided to take a wild risk and put her hands to her pistols. "My friends here say 800,000 Beli."

The man let out a belly laugh, his massive gut quivering slightly. "Finally, a lady who figgers out the tricks o' the trade! I'll give it to yeh for 800,000 and the ammo for 2,500 a box, 50 shots in each one."

"I'll take the rifle and six boxes!" she stated. "Though I don't have the cash on me… it's on my ship, you see."

"Miss, yore talkin' to a man who's served pirates his entire life!" he said with a grin. "I know that there's no way you'd be carryin' that kinda loot around without knowing what you'd get. I'll reserve it, like I do all me loyal customers."

"Captain, Captain!" Lyn shouted before Cassandra could thank the man. "This is awesome! Color-changing hair dye!"

"Aye," the shopkeeper said. "It'll dye any color of hair, even black like yours, miss. It's super-special mood dye, changes color with your mood, only 1,500 Beli."

"Lyn, it's only sensitive to temperature," Cassandra muttered. "Not magically linked to your mood."

"I know that," Lyn responded. "Doesn't make it any less awesome. Can I get it?"

Cassandra pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. "Yes, you can get it. What else did you find?"

"Well, we're the Black Glove Pirates, right?" Lyn asked. After a short pause, Cassandra realized that Lyn was expecting a response. Deciding to humor the first mate, she nodded. "So I thought that we should all have black gloves to symbolize our crew!"

Her eyebrows slowly climbing up her forehead as she thought about this, Cassandra stared that the pleased woman. "Lyn, that's brilliant."

Nodding furiously, Lyn lifted up her right hand, revealing a familiar looking black glove. "I picked this one because it's just like yours, Captain!"

"And this fingerless glove should do just nicely," Alexander announced, holding up his right hand and showing Cassandra his black glove. It was fingerless above the first knuckle from his hand, an odd choice for the pirate. Seeing her questioning look, he swiftly explained himself. "I'll be able to use my Devil Fruit powers and still be part of this whole black glove business that Lyn cooked up. Similarly, this armored glove should satisfy Damien."

"It's a left-handed glove," Cassandra commented, eyeing the plated gauntlet. "Isn't he right-handed?"

"Trust me," Alexander said confidently. "He'll want the left-handed glove."

Cassandra sighed and turned towards the counter. "How much'll that be in total?"

"825,000 Beli total," the man said. "I'll be seeing you soon?"

"Indeed you shall," Cassandra called back as they left the store.

Then, pretending like she had forgotten something, she held up her hand, indicating for her crewmembers to stay put. Racing back into the store, she caught the shopkeeper's eye. "What now, missy?"

"There is one other item that I'd like…"

When she told him what it was, he raised his eyebrows in shock. "Even that small amount would cost tens of millions of Beli. I'm not even sure if I have it."

"How much?" she persisted.

Frowning, he rubbed his chin in thought. "49,000,000 Beli," he said finally. "And 25,000 more because I'll have to have it shipped in."

"I'll round my entire order up to 50,000,000 if you have it shipped to me as quickly as possible."

"Deal. But I'll let you have the gloves and dye, 'cuz I'm a nice guy."

"Perfect," she said in satisfaction. "You will get the money in a day's time. May I borrow a pen and paper?"

After scribbling the amount and the name of the store down on the scrap of paper the man had given her, she waved good-bye and raced out of the store to her waiting crewmembers. "Forgot something," she told them. "Anyway, Lyn, go back to the ship. There's something I wanna see farther in the island." Then, as a side note, "And when you get back, make sure Damien's okay."

The grinning first mate nodded and departed. Alexander grinned humorlessly at Cassandra's comment. "What, you don't trust that woman either?"

"I trust her like you trust Damien. I just want to make sure that he hasn't caused any trouble," Cassandra responded as they continued to walk down the street, beginning to wonder where all of the musician's animosity was coming from. Granted, she had nearly killed his friend, but something traumatic must have happened before she had arrived on the ship. Mentally shelving this issue for a later time, she gave a series of complicated whistles, causing Alexander to look at her in confusion. Acting as if nothing had happened, she said, "C'mon, there's something that caught my interest up ahead."

Alexander was about to ask exactly what caught her interest, but she quickly shushed him. They strode through the city, going farther and farther inland. Alexander was in his element, somehow knowing which pirates would return his greetings and which would rather slit his throat. Cassandra assumed that after spending most of his life on Charred Island, where all of the pirates were… what had that old lady called them… peace-maine pirates, he gained a basic knowledge of what kinds of pirate each person was.

The alchemist eventually picked up a grimy newspaper and amused himself that way, catching up on the world's news. Whenever she asked for any interesting tidbits, he grunted dismissively, telling her that he would relate all of the important information when he was finished. Satisfied with the result, she turned back to the road. The glimpse she had caught was worthless anyway, something about T-shirt sales in North Blue.

As she had expected, Alexander finally opened his mouth to ask her where they were going, but closed it quickly when he suddenly realized the immense structure looming up in front of them. It was a massive building of stone that towered thirty meters above their heads. The ornate exterior was carved deep into the rock, covered in sculptures and carvings of a myriad of scenes: extravagant battles, mysterious beasts and fiery passion. A fleeting look to either side showed that the wall curved for a good distance, then turned behind itself, giving the appearance of a ring.

"What is it?" Alexander said breathlessly, tucking the newspaper into his inner coat pocket.

Cassandra grinned as she walked up to one of the hundreds of wooden doors dotting the base of the gargantuan structure. She started up a set of stone steps carved into the rock of the building.

"Each of the Tiezserhaj islands has a site of interest," Cassandra explained. "A tourist attraction, the pride and glory of their island." She walked down a hallway, stepping over the occasional passed out pirate. "The kings have a palace grander than any in all the seas." She climbed another set of stairs. "The bandits have entire cities and networks of tunnels carved into a range of volcanoes." Yet another set of stairs. "And nobody knows what's on the fourth island."

After a few minutes of climbing, they finally made it to the top of the building. Alexander gasped in amazement, baffled by what he saw beneath him.

"This," Cassandra said, swinging her arms out wide. "Is the pirate island's battle arena!"

The pair was standing on the edge of a gigantic ring encircling a flat plain in the middle, some distance away. Alexander squinted at the pale sands and could barely make out the tiny specks fighting in the distance. He turned around and found that he could see the entire city from this vantage point, along with the myriad of pirate ships docked at the island's edge. He grinned and turned back to the arena.

"How big is it?" he asked eagerly.

"The coliseum itself is 300 meters in diameter while the fighting area is about 150 meters in diameter," Cassandra responded. "It's so big that pirates can even host boat races and naval battles in here."

Alexander gaped at her. "How did you know that?"

Cassandra pointed at the sign behind her. "I read it off of that."

The awestruck musician nodded understandingly. "C'mon, let's get to the middle." He looked downwards and groaned. "We're gonna have to walk all the way down there?"

Cassandra shook her head and smiled. "Not exactly. See, these pirates were smart, young, and lazy. Therefore, they designed an ingenious way of getting to the bottom."

Alexander followed her finger to a deep stone slide that extended from the top wall to the seats right in front of the arena. "Gotcha. C'mon, let's ride it!" he said eagerly.

Cassandra graciously held out her hand towards the slide. Alexander, needing no further invitation, stepped onto the slide and immediately began shooting downwards. Cassandra waited until he was a good distance away before giving the same complicated whistles she had given earlier. A few seconds later, a large black crow alighted on her shoulder, staring at her with intelligent eyes. "Give this to your master," she commanded, holding up the scrap of paper bearing the name of the store and the amount of money. The crow continued to gaze at her expectantly. "The head of the Black Glove Assassins, you feather-brained twit!" The crow dipped its head, grabbed the paper, and took off.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and shook her head, ready to join her musician at the bottom. She took a short running jump and landed right in the middle of the slide. She immediately began to accelerate to alarming speeds as she slid past the stands. The entire arena became a blur, noises came and went like bullets, and all she could think about was the thrill of the slide. She eventually felt herself slow down and skid to a stop right at the foot of the slide. Getting out, she found that Alexander was sitting close by in one of the few vacant seats, breathing heavily.

"I thought I was gonna die," he said, a half-terrified, half-exhilarated smile plastered on his face.

"Apparently, they designed the slide to slow down so as not to kill us," Cassandra said thoughtfully. "I wonder how they did it?"

"Who cares about how they did it," Alexander said excitedly. "Look, we're right in front of the arena!"

Indeed, scores of pirates were fighting it out a few meters away. Cassandra watched as a multitude of small lithe forms attacked a larger man fifteen meters further out and apparently took him down. But the man shook them all off and swung a familiar green-white axe around, cutting all of the shapes in two. He let loose a loud roar which echoed around the stadium.

"That's Madaxe!" Alexander said awestruck. His face promptly darkened and he made as if to leap the short stone barrier between spectator and fighter.

"Alexander!" Cassandra shouted loudly. "Restrain yourself."

Alexander looked at her, an odd cross between shame and fury dancing in his eyes. "But he's right there!"

"There is a time and a place for everything," Cassandra murmured soothingly. "Would you try to checkmate the king with only a knight or wait for the assistance of a rook?"

Alexander thought about this. "Well, can't you take him on then? You know, revenge for the injury of your crewmember?"

"No! Calm down. Use your head. If you attack him now, you'll die. If I attack him now, an endless wave of his supporters and followers will overcome us. Let's go." She turned around and started down the around the arena. Alexander grudgingly followed, casting one last glare in Madaxe's direction.

After looking around, Alexander noticed that they weren't leaving. "Where are we going?"

Cassandra pointed at three statues at the north end of the arena. Alexander let a smile spread across his face. "You really want to be Queen of the Pirates, don't you?"

Not responding verbally, Cassandra began the tedious climb to the base of the statues. As she ascended, she eyed the statues, noting their new poses. Gol D. Roger had shed his cloak and was now hoisting his sword into the air with one hand and held a pistol ready with the other, bellowing a silent battle cry. Monkey D. Luffy had his arm stretched far in front of his face in a devastating punch, his straw hat tucked safely behind his back. And Gar D. Bol had turned into a monstrous animal, curved, double-bladed swords clenched in his hands, hand-like feet, and mouth.

When she reached the wall, she was able to read the descriptions. The first king was apparently the most powerful free-style fighter, the second was master of the Gomu Gomu no Mi, and the third employed both the Saru Saru no Mi: Model Chimpanzee and Jyutoryu, ten-sword style. Frowning up at the statue, she realized that each blade could technically be constituted as a sword.

Cassandra felt a tug at her shoulder. She turned around to admonish Alexander, but he was four meters away, carefully reading Gol D. Roger's plaque. She frowned, before feeling something invisible wash over her face. She froze as she realized that Lyn was trying to get her attention and cursed herself for not realizing sooner. "Something's wrong."

"What is it?" Alexander asked, turning away.

"We're leaving!" she shouted, rushing for the exit. "Now!"

Not ten minutes later, she arrived at the _Howling Knave_ completely out of breath. Lyn was waiting anxiously at the railing, fidgeting with her loop of beads. Upon seeing them, she let out her typical, panicked stream of words. "Damiensnotontheship! Idontknowwhereheis!"

Cassandra turned back to the town, irritation clearly evident on her face. "This is not good… This is not good! How could you let him escape?" she yelled at the black-clad woman perched on the railing beside the distraught first mate.

"He needed to release some pent-up emotions," Raven replied tonelessly. "Continuously sedating him could lead to some unintended consequences."

"Since when have you cared about unintended consequences?" Cassandra snapped. Then, seeing of the meaningful look thrown in her direction, she shouted, "I can deal with him! He wouldn't have hurt me! You shouldn't have let him go!" Gritting her teeth, she turned and stared at the town in front of her. "There's no telling where he's gone…"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Damien looked up at the dead end he had run into. He heard the angry shouting behind him and leaned against the wall, gnashing his teeth as pain lanced through his deadened left arm. _Fuck you, Madaxe. Where the fuck are you_…

"There he is!" a voice yelled. "We've cornered him!"

_If I can't get to you myself, I'll get to you through your crew_. Turning around, he saw that the alleyway was packed with furious pirates, armed to the teeth and out for his blood. It probably didn't help that he had insulted their captain, their manliness, and their mothers in a single bawdy sentence to draw them from their bar and into a more fitting battleground. He flexed his right hand and grinned nastily, preparing himself for the battle to come. The pirate in the front crossed his arms and looked at the lone man. "Why are you smiling, brat? You do know that you're gonna die?"

"Ya inces'-bred, pigfuckin' chickenshits," he growled, bloodlust shining in his crazed eyes. "Dontcha know tha' yeh've run into a trap?"

"He's bluffing!" a cry rang out, through the pirates seemed to be slightly uneasy. "Let's get him!"

"I'ma rip yer fuckin' cocks off," he shouted, erupting into flames and spreading his wings out wide. "Yer all dead!"

* * *

Couple quick notes: I'm assuming that 1 Beli is about equal to 1 yen. I also have no idea how Gol D. Roger fought. And I also know that Gar D. Bol's swords are based on Illidan Stormrage's War Glaives from Warcraft III.

(The last two notes are really not as important as the first)


	19. The First Piratical Challenge

This crew is such a joy to write about. Even I don't always know what they'll do next (to some extent).

* * *

Cassandra stormed through the town, glancing quickly around. Lyn, Alexander, and Raven had scattered throughout the small city, each hellbent on locating the rogue navigator. They had been searching for several hours and the sun was vanishing below the horizon. She clenched her gloved fist tightly and gritted her teeth. _One way or another, you are going to have to learn to obey my orders!_ she yelled in her head. She paused slightly, remembering that she hadn't actually given him any direct orders. He had been asleep when she had departed from the ship. Disregarding this fact, she sniffed the air, trying to think of what he would smell like. Her sense of smell, like the rest of her senses, was abnormally powerful even without boosting her adrenal system.

Alarmed shouting reached her ears, lifting her hopes ever so slightly. Rushing forwards and shoving people out of her way, she pelted through the tightly packed street. The lampposts were just beginning light up, casting broad pools of light that occasionally illuminated the path in front of her. Passing beneath one of the aforementioned circles, she realized that the shouts were coming from a nearby alleyway. Cursing her luck, she inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. "Voluntas Carnae."

When she opened her eyes to a squint, she was glad that the rim of her cowboy hat shielded her face from the harsh lamplight. Running forwards into the alley, she opened her hazel orbs fully. She could see everything as if it were daylight. Neatly hurtling over a trashcan, she climbed up onto a dumpster and threw herself for a nearby fire escape ladder. Barely grasping on, she pulled as hard as she could, heaving herself onto the narrow bars. After ascending a few more floors above the ground, she inched out on a windowsill and peeked around the corner, taking care to make as little noise as possible.

It was fortunate that she had taken the precaution to get off the ground. As the alley turned sharply to the left, she saw that two men had been waiting directly around the bend. If she had continued to run on the ground, she would no doubt have collided with them and been captured or worse. She braced herself against a drainpipe, staring down with an analytical gaze.

The two men were standing guard for a larger group, who were gathered around three helpless women. Her eyes hardened as she stared at the scene, instantly figuring out what was going on. The women were crying out for help, but, as it was Summer Isle, were obviously not going to receive any. At least, none from any men in the immediate area or passersby in the street…

She tried to tell herself that it was none of her business, that she had more important matters to attend to, but a part of her heart still went out to the doomed women. She never had been able to just stand by and watch as innocents were murdered. Targets and people who deserved it, yes, but not innocents. She knew that if she had, she wouldn't have even thought about recruiting the two men from the Charred Isle. She would have taken all of the men out with her pistols, but she felt the need to vent her anger towards her navigator somehow. Sighing and shaking her head at herself, she cupped her hands around her mouth and took a deep breath. "Leave those women alone…"

Her voice had the desired effect, bouncing eerily off the narrow walls and masking her true location. The men paused and glanced around, trying to figure out what had just happened. "Did you hear something?"

"Yeah… hey, you two, go check it out," a man ordered. Cassandra marked him as the leader, vowing that he would be the one to suffer the most. Reaching inside her short sleeves and withdrawing her beloved throwing knives, she swung around and put all of her weight on the pipe, easily and noiselessly sliding down to the ground. Landing lightly on her feet, she casually walked towards them, knowing that they couldn't see in the dark like she could.

As she had predicted, the men simply walked past her, eyes scanning slightlessly for any intruder. She threw her arms out to both sides, stabbing as hard as she could with her knives. The men stiffened as the blades pierced their blood vessels and windpipes, instantly rendering them unable to speak or breathe properly. Withdrawing her knives with a sickly _squelch_, she listened to the loud gurgles the men made as they fell to their knees, grasping at their necks in vain. She lightly leapt onto a nearby dumpster, watching as three more men rushed forwards to investigate the odd sounds.

These men were obviously more accustomed to the fading light, scanning everything much more carefully than the first two. After crouching down and wiping her bloody blades on the dying men, she hopped into a doorway and pressed her back against the doorframe, waiting quietly for the men to pass. Her body was beginning to tire, but she needed to see as much as she could to survive this unfair battle. She waited until the men were past to make her move. "Manus Lavernae."

Running behind the first man, she grabbed his head and cut his throat with one savage jerk. Reaching around him, she hurled her knives with all her might, instantly slaying the other men that had been sent out to find her. Shoving corpse to the side, she reached over and pulled out her knives with a sickly _squelch_, listening to the patter of blood dripping to the grimy floor. She casually strolled around the corner and threw her knives with deadly accuracy, impaling her targets through the heart. She darted forward and took back her knives, spinning them easily in her hand. She rolled to avoid the objects thrown in her direction and sprang to her feet, thrusting her knives up through the defenseless undersides of the men's jaws. Finishing her fluid motion, she withdrew her knives and crossed them over the leader's throat.

"What have we learned about raping women?" she hissed.

"That having back up was a good idea," he responded, staring evenly up at her.

She cursed and, spinning behind him, stabbed her knives into the backs of his knees, sending him falling to the ground. Using his kneeling form as a shield, she whipped out her pistols and saw that almost every window was sporting at least one gunman aiming in her direction. "Why all the protection?" she breathed into his ear.

"Protection?" he asked, a shaky laugh audible in his pained voice. "This is a trap, bitch. Every now and then, a pirate comes along to try to save innocent lives. We weed out trash like that."

She placed her pistol at the base of his skull and fired, disgusted that he would kill honest, adventurous pirates with such a dirty trick. In one swift motion, she threw her pistols in the air, yanked her knives from his knees and resheathed them, caught her pistols, and hit the ground running. Bullets rained down around her, miraculously missing her most of the time. She returned each shot in kind, hitting all of her targets with practiced ease. She whirled around the corner and froze, seeing line upon line of armed pirates all waiting for her to move. She held up her hands and let her pistols dangle by their trigger guards. "All this trouble for little old me?"

"Sometimes, we need to use quite a bit of force," a voice drifted out. "You're not the last we'll face tonight and some will be considerably more challenging."

Suddenly, screams erupted as the ranks collapsed, some unseen force causing them crumble like age-old buildings shaken by an earthquake. Cassandra took a deep breath and closed her eyes, calming down her rapidly tiring body. She found that she was in almost blackness, the only light coming from the lamp behind the diminishing ranks of men. Soon, only one form was outlined against in the light, blood dripping from spikes on their hands. Sighing with relief and holstering her pistols, Cassandra called out, "All right there, Raven?"

"They were going to kill you," the woman replied tonelessly, the spikes vanishing with a wet _shhhhht_. "I could not sit there and do nothing."

"Did you search for Damien at all?" Cassandra asked, slowly walking forward.

"You should not strain your body so much," Raven droned, completely disregarding her question. "Your adrenal system was not meant to be taxed in such a manner."

Cassandra waved her hand dismissively. "Did you search for Damien?"

Raven lapsed into silence. The pirate captain shook her head and was about to respond when she felt a light tug on her sleeve. Turning around, she saw that the women from before were huddled behind her, staring at her thankfully. "You saved us," one of them sobbed, clutching her body tightly.

"Obviously," Raven said.

"Be nice," Cassandra scolded before turning back to the women. "Go now. Try to stay in well-lit areas."

"It won't make too much of a difference," another mumbled. "They'll seize us either way."

"Well, try to be inside after dark," Cassandra told her, striding towards the street. "Listen, I've got to go. Take care."

She turned and resumed her search of the city, a black shadow following behind her. She sniffed the air again, letting the smells flow into her sharp nose. It didn't help that the woman trailing her had specks of blood adorning her body. Nor did it help that the entire city stank of alcohol, sweat, and semen. What she was looking for, or rather, smelling for, was the strong stench of burning blood. More likely than not, her navigator had gone out and killed tonight. For once, his bloodthirsty nature would play to their advantage, for the copious amounts of blood shed by him would be rather easy to locate.

Which is why she was confused as hell when she detected the aforementioned scent in two separate places. She further analyzed the smell. Only burned blood had that particular stench to it, but why was it in two places? She sighed and closed her eyes once more, resolving to visit both locations. After all, two was much better than nothing or too many. Thankfully, no other pirates had gone on berserk frenzies that night.

But before she could move, she felt a smaller hand grasp her shoulder. "You should not tax yourself so much."

"A good night's sleep and I'll be fine," Cassandra said quickly. "Voluntas Carnae."

She inhaled deeply, trying to paint a mental picture of the particular smells. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, trying her best not to vomit. She vaguely sensed Raven next to her, staring downward dispassionately. She forced her senses back to normal, taking a deep breath of the suddenly less suffocating air. Grinning slightly at her own foolishness, she looked up at the silent woman. "He's heading back to the ship."

Raven nodded as the pirate captain pushed herself to her feet. Cassandra dusted herself off and set off at a brisk pace, confusing the black-clad doctor. "The ship is in the other direction."

"I know," Cassandra stated. "But I want to see his handiwork."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"I don't know whether to commend him or condemn him." Cassandra stared in morbid fascination at the red-soaked alleyway. Corpses were strewn about the narrow area, most of them burned, dismembered, or otherwise pulverized beyond recognition. The entire place smelled of burned blood and cooked meat, a disturbingly natural combination. She kicked lightly at a nearby hand, watching as it limply flopped to the side. "Both, I suppose."

"I see what you mean," Raven breathed. "You need a fighter. Why yell at a powerful one who does not know the meaning of the words 'restraint' or 'fear' if not for disobeying your orders and jeopardizing your well-being?"

Cassandra pondered this as her eyes roved over the scene. She frowned as she caught sight of a peculiar splatter of blood on the wall. Gingerly stepping over a crushed corpse, she narrowed her eyes and stared hard at the crimson bricks. She halted in her tracks and stared. Closing her eyes and rubbing them, she double-checked to make sure she wasn't going insane. Fury boiling up inside her once more, she turned to the woman and pointed at the bloody words on the wall. "That's why."

Raven's inky orbs scanned the bloody message on the wall. "It must have taken multiple people to provide such a quantity of blood."

"It's nice to know you can still creep me out," Cassandra commented, exiting the alleyway.

"Was that sarcastic?" Raven asked in her usual toneless voice.

Cassandra sighed. "More or less. You know, I think that this is the most words you've spoken in a conversational manner. To anybody." Raven merely stared at her. "Well, it wouldn't kill you to chat once in a while." The woman remained silent. "It was just an observation…"

They walked in relative quiet for a full minute. Then, much to Cassandra's surprise, Raven spoke. "How does one have a conversation?"

"We'll talk about it later," Cassandra said, internally wincing at the terrible choice of words. But she had to change the topic for one main reason: she had spotted one of her crewmembers inside a bar. This was important; Alexander was supposed to be looking for his friend. Cassandra seriously doubted that the alchemist would have given up so easily which left two options. Either he was being held against his will or, the more likely solution…

She pushed open the bar doors and, sure enough, Damien and Lyn were sitting right next to him, the latter engaged in a rather heated argument with the bartender. Cassandra put a hand to her face, wondering exactly what they were doing in the bar. But first… "You are one sick, twisted bastard, you know that?"

Draining the rest of his glass, Damien cast a weather eye in her direction. "Why thank ya, Cap'n. I guess ya foun' me present t' Madaxe?"

"He's going to find you," Cassandra reminded him. "And he's going to kill us."

"He won't kill all of us," Alexander piped up. "He'll only kill Damien, right?"

"Thanks fer th' vote o' confidence, asshole," Damien growled, eliciting a cheery grin from his musical friend.

Cassandra sighed. "Well, what's done is done, I guess. Anyway, I thought you guys were going back to the ship."

"What made you think that?" Lyn asked, completely tuning out the barman's splutters of indignation at being ignored.

"You seemed to be heading in its direction," Cassandra said, watching as Damien downed another mug of rum. "And how many of those have you had?"

"Four-eyes has had one, Loudmouth has had three, and Scarboy twenty-two," the bartender stated, recovering from his previous irritation.

"Twenty-two?" Cassandra asked in shock. "That's…"

"Understandable," Raven cut in. "His abnormal temperature could cause a good amount of it to burn up before the alcohol is absorbed into his body."

Damien turned to her, his face lit up with a pleased grin. He ran his tongue around his dripping canines and shoved a mug in Cassandra's direction, which she grudgingly accepted. After staring at the liquid for a moment, a thought occurred to her. "How are you paying for all of this?"

"Three men have each wagered ten mugs that they could outdrink him," Lyn told her. "Not counting that one, we have three left on the-"

Without any warning, the doors exploded from their hinges, careening towards the pirate crew. Damien's functioning arm caught one before it decapitated the bartender; Raven easily sidestepped the other, her attention more focused on the cause of the disturbance. Cassandra had a bad, bad feeling that she knew who it was and hoped against hope that she was wrong.

She wasn't.

Like some unspeakable evil emerging from the mist, Darren Madaxe stormed through the dust, his eyes flashing wildly. "Where are you, runt!"

"'Ere," Damien growled. Throwing his drained glass aside, he sent a malicious smirk in the enormous man's direction. "I take it ya get me message?"

"Aye," Madaxe roared. "_To the shitfaced cockfucker who ruined my arm, I ain't about slaughtering your crew, had to see if they were as weak as you were. You want revenge, come get me. _You want to finish this right here?" Cassandra noted that the enormous pirate had artfully left out the last portion of Damien's message, which was entirely composed of as many insults as the crazed navigator could fit on the wall.

"Th' arena," Damien snarled. "So everybody c'n see me kick yer fuckin' ass."

Madaxe's jaw worked furiously, trying to find an appropriate response. Then, a knowing smile spread across his face, causing almost every patron in the bar to grow nervous. "What do you say to a Pirate's Wager, runt? Five days from now, five of us against five of you, one-on-one matches, anything goes, best of five win. Ordinarily, the captains would fight each other at the end, but we can make an exception in this case, don't you think?"

Damien glanced expectantly at Cassandra, who stared back at him with the exact same expression. Upon realizing that he was waiting for her to respond, she tried her best to quash her surprise and turned back to Madaxe. She definitely hadn't expected Damien to leave the decision to her. _Well, the first step to being Pirate Queen is to have many people acknowledge your skill_…_ But I also don't want to place my crew into too much danger_.

"What do you think, Lyn?" she muttered, turning to her first mate.

Lyn looked back at her cheerfully. "This sounds like a challenge, Captain! We can't back down from a challenge!"

"I agree with Lyn, Captain," Alexander said when Cassandra turned to him. "Plus, clashing with other pirates is unavoidable. Better sooner than later's what I say."

"You know mah vote," Damien grumbled. "I'll kick 'is ass any day!"

Cassandra nodded and turned to her friend, who was perched on a barstool and was simply watching the proceedings. "Raven, you're not part of the Black Glove Pirates. You're under no obligation to-"

"My life is yours," Raven whispered. "Use it as you see fit."

"That's 'yes' in Ravenspeak," Lyn informed Cassandra.

Grinning at this last comment, the female captain turned back to the male captain, planting a hand on her hip. "If we win?"

"What would please you, lass?" Madaxe boomed, obviously amused.

"You will give me Basilikos," Cassandra immediately responded, having remembered his shameless boasting about the massive axe.

She smiled at Madaxe's suddenly indecisive expression, mentally imploring one of her crewmembers to egg him on. "Whassa matter?" Lyn taunted. "Afraid you'll lose to the teensy weensy pirate captain?"

_Points for originality_, Cassandra thought sarcastically. Nevertheless, she was once again amazed at her first mate's acuity. Madaxe, still looking displeased, gave a low grumble. "All right lass, you can have Basilikos. But if _we_ win…" he trailed off for dramatic effect. "You five join our crew. As slaves and whores."

* * *

I'd say that last part is motivation enough for them to win, don't you?


	20. The Pirate's Wager, Part I

And it is time for the epic one-on-one battles of Summer Isle. Now is a chance for you to see inside the heads of the various pirates (or randomly appearing doctors) and see their true colors...

Props go to the Dude of Doom, who I see as both a great writer and a great supporter. Kudos.

* * *

The next five days passed by like a blur. Well, Cassandra wished they had. Instead, she was acutely aware of every single activity aboard her ship, where the four crewmembers and one temporary doctor were preparing for the Pirate's Wager. She herself spent a good chunk of time each day simply meditating, expanding her senses to observe every detail for longer and longer periods of time. She would then see how long she could hold her heightened state before collapsing to the deck and stubbornly rising again, intent on pushing her body to its limits. When she wasn't wearing herself to the point of exhaustion, she was roaming the local taverns, scouting for any information she could gather on Madaxe's crew.

Lyn focused more on enjoying herself: drawing or painting, playing with her crewmates, and occasionally vanishing from the ship for hours on end. During these times, Cassandra kept track of her location by smell, usually locating the paint- and charcoal-covered woman within a few seconds. But when the first mate was on the _Howling Knave_, she was lightly skipping across the deck with her rapier, never running through the same fencing routine twice. She sometimes enjoyed scampering up the main rigging, swinging over to the mizzenmast, flying down, and repeating the process over again. Something about agility and dexterity.

Damien resumed the training that he had begun before they had landed: vertical push-ups, horizontal push-ups with his feet over the water, pull-ups, and countless other grueling tasks. For some unexplained reason, he refused to do any of it on the ship, something which puzzled Cassandra greatly. His gaze constantly flicked over to his useless left arm, which dangled heavily beside him. He sometimes vanished into the town for hours at a time, returning whenever he wanted. Midway through the third day, he got so fed up with it that he ascended to the crow's nest, spread out his wings, and roared to the heavens, cursing Madaxe using every foul word in existence and inventing a few of his own to keep things interesting. After shouting for quite a while, he finally calmed down enough and collapsed from blood loss, having reopened his wounds again. Luckily, the ship tilted enough on a particularly large swell to cause him to fall onto the docks, easily plunging through the shabby wooden planks.

Alexander was the most carefree of them all, barely focusing on the looming competition. He kept the crew entertained with long, marching melodies, which seemed to inspire those training to work even harder. He never ceased to soften his notes whenever Cassandra began her meditation, switching over to a more soothing tune, like a stream trickling down a mountain. He did, however, manage to train his alchemy a bit, able to transform more for the same amount of energy. He only left the ship when he wanted to stretch his legs, which was not as often as the other crewmembers.

Raven kept to herself the entire time. She didn't train with the crew, she didn't dine with the crew, and, as far as Cassandra could tell, didn't interact with the crew in any way whatsoever. One night, the pirate captain had gone outside and managed to catch a glimpse of a dark form balancing on the main mast's flagpole, which vanished almost instantly. The pirate captain sighed to herself, knowing that this was not helping the doctor's relationship with the male Black Glove Pirates.

And, like some great beast, the fifth day came. They got up, got dressed, ate, and left. Nothing extraordinary, nothing unnecessary. Today, a battle would rage. Today, many would fight. Today, many would die.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

The Black Glove Pirates strode purposefully through the town in a neat V formation. People openly stared at the four pirates like they were going to their executions. Cassandra was in the lead, one hand swaying with her walking rhythm and the other placed on the handle of one of her guns. She had dressed in her usual outfit: white cowboy hat, black unbuttoned shirt over a bright orange T-shirt, blue jeans, and red cowboy boots. Her two pistols were tucked securely in their holsters, ready to be drawn in a moment's notice. She also carried her two throwing knives, strapped loosely to her shoulders should the need arise to use them. Her black leather glove shone dully in the sun, completing her proud appearance.

On Cassandra's left was the first mate. Lyn was walking in much the same fashion, only her gloved hand was on her rapier. She had put the color-changing dye in her bangs, the long streaks of red giving her a slightly more dangerous look. Still deciding that it was too hot out, she was simply clad in a bikini top and shorts. Her loop of prayer beads was wrapped around her sword sheath, which was strapped to her belt. A cheerful smile brightened her face as she gazed around, practically bouncing with anticipation.

His entire body smoking slightly, Damien was striding furiously behind his captain's right side, wings folded in plain sight. His expression, which could be described as moderately pissed by his crewmates, caused many a man to pale and move as far out of his way as they could. Muscles rippled underneath his dark, scarred skin as he walked and the sun glinted off his bared teeth. His left hand was clenched into a tight fist and was encompassed with his spiky armored gauntlet, looking for all the world like some wicked mace.

Following behind Damien, Alexander was absentmindedly turning a ball he held in his gloved hand from stone to metal to glass and back to stone repeatedly, as if checking to make sure his powers still worked. Having bothered to dress up for the occasion, he had on one of his best suits and ties. He had spent all of the night before preparing his outfit, wanting to look presentable. He held no illusions that his outfit wouldn't get ruined, but he knew that presentation was everything. His trumpet was clenched tightly in his left hand, further enhancing his sophisticated appearance.

Having appeared behind Lyn sometime during the march, Raven was staring around expressionlessly, following the others like a shadow. She, as always, was clad in her skintight black outfit. Her sable eyes continuously scanned the surroundings as if checking for any threats. Her knee-length ponytail drifted slightly in the wind as they walked through the city. She remained silent and watchful, ready for anything.

When the quintet arrived at the arena, two nameless thugs were waiting for them at the gates. Cassandra didn't give them a second glance as she walked imperiously though the massive doors, listening to the echoing her boots made on the stone floor. Soon, grains of sand began littering the floor, eventually giving way to the sunlit sands of the arena. Not too far from where they were, five figures stood casually on the freshly cleaned sand, reveling in the uproarious cheers emanating from the stands.

The tallest man leered down at the approaching pirates, amusement audible in his voice. "Well, looks like th' whore decides to come after all."

"How are the fights being arranged?" Cassandra asked coolly, ignoring the insult.

"Tha's easy," Madaxe grunted. "You 'ave a gunner, a swordswoman, a brawler, an all-purpose fighter, and a doctor. We don' wan' th' matches t' be too unfair, so we chose those 'oo seemed well suited t' th' task. First up is four-eyes over there."

"Right to business," Cassandra said approvingly as she motioned for the others to clear the area. "Good luck, Alexander."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Thanks, Captain," Alexander responded, looking warily at his opponent. "Who might you be?"

"John Jennings Jones," the man told him, tucking some of his dark hair back underneath a dusty hat. "You can call me JJJ."

Alexander bowed his head in greeting. "My name is Alexander-"

"Listen, are we going to fight or what?" Jones asked as he put his hands to his waist. "I kinda want to see your navigator ground into a pulp as soon as possible."

Alexander let out a low chuckle as he slowly edged towards his opponent. "It would be interesting to see that. Too bad it's not going to happen! Trompette Sonnerie!"

The wiry man dodged out of the way, keeping one hand on his head to prevent his hat from flying off. Landing in a neat backwards roll, he sprang to his feet and eyed the gigantic furrow with interest. "Whooee! That's quite a weapon you've got there. Mind if I show you my own?"

Alexander's eyes widened as Jones pulled out two long coils, which the man unraveled with a swift flick of the wrist. Two rather long whips lashed out, each one laced with a myriad of deadly-looking spikes. Jones grinned as he spotted Alexander's look of fear. "That's right, little man! Is your fancy trumpet going to save you now?"

"Acier Magie Armure," he muttered to himself, swiftly touching his forearms, his upper arms, his chest, his thighs and his calves. Feeling like he should have practiced this maneuver more, he stood stock still, waiting for Jones to make the first move. He knew that he could only last so long against the barbed whips. Jones was spinning them around his thin form, listening to the whistling sound they made as they whirred a hairsbreadth away from his body. Sensing that the man was about to make his move, Alexander shifted his weight downwards and braced himself.

"One Tailed Cat!" Jones shouted as he lashed one whip forward, intent on killing his opponent in a single blow. With some degree of difficulty, Alexander brought his metal-covered left arm to block the strike, ducking his head to avoid the deadly whip as it wrapped around his forearms. If Jones was surprised, he did an admirable job of masking it. His facial expression not changing in the slightest, he pulled as hard as he could, letting the whip grind against Alexander's metal sleeve and sending up a wave of sparks.

Alexander stumbled backwards, staring at his crushed sleeve with shock. "Those are some nice whips you've got there, mate."

"Less talking, more fighting! Two Tailed Cat!" Jones shouted, sending the whips flying towards Alexander once more. This time, Alexander threw himself forward, landing heavily on the hot sands. Swiftly turning his now useless sleeve into water, he stumbled to his feet, barely managing to duck under the deadly weapons once more. He watched as Jones spun the coils in a loop, aiming to hammer Alexander on one side. Cursing his luck at having this particular opponent, Alexander crouched back down, shielding his head with his right arm.

"Three Tailed Cat!" The whips slammed into his arm and torso, sending him tumbling through the sands. He exhaled sharply as the wind was driven from his lungs and his glasses threatened to fly from his face. He eventually ceased bouncing through the sands, lying on his uninjured side while he regained his breath. His right arm was aflame with pain, some of the spikes having managed to pierce his makeshift armor. The crushed metal poking into his side prevented him from fully filling his lungs, making it rather hard to breathe. At this rate, he would lose his fight for sure.

"Four Tailed Cat!" Alexander cursed as he threw himself to the side, turning his ruined armor into yet more water. What seemed like four whips slashed through the sands beside him, one cutting into his ankle and causing it to bleed. Wincing slightly and looking around, he realized that one of the lenses in his glasses had broken. He spun around to see that Jones was becoming more irritated, swinging his whips faster than before. Obviously, the man had wanted to finish off the fight more quickly than this. Alexander's eyes widened as the whips spiraled towards him, glinting dangerously in the sunlight. "Five Tailed-"

"Trompette Sonnerie!" The soundwave managed to catch Jones off-guard, blasting him backwards. As an added bonus, the arena sands had been lifted into the air, whipping up a smokescreen of sorts. Alexander seized the opportunity to move away from his previous position, gasping deeply for breath. He really should have trained more on the ship, should have increased his stamina for this sort of thing. His crewmates couldn't protect him forever. He had to be able to stand up for himself.

"That's it, jackass!" The enraged scream came from behind the sands drifting through the windless air. "Six Tailed Cat!"

Alexander exhaled in relief as six whips impaled the ground where he had just been standing. Then, to his surprise, they coalesced into two whips, which were quickly yanked back behind the sands. This information didn't help him much; those six, or soon to be seven, whips were still as lethal as the normal ones were. Glancing down at his body, he saw that only five pieces of armor remained: one on his left upper arm and two on each leg. He needed to act quickly, using his legs as a shield to launch his own attack. "Trompette Sonnerie!"

More sand was thrown into the air, eliciting a shout of fury from the whip-using pirate. "Stop hiding, coward! Seven Tailed Cat!"

Alexander had already shifted to the side in anticipation for the flying whips. What he did not expect, however, was seven whips to whiz towards him from every direction, including laterally. Groaning in irritation, he planted his hands on the ground and concentrated as hard as he could. "Eau Magie!"

The sands turned into water just as the whips careened toward where he was standing. With a sigh of relief, he fell into the pool he had created, listening as the whips whizzed within a few centimeters of his hair. He tried to lift himself out of the pool, but realized that sand had mixed with the water, turning it into a mass of wet sludge. He slowly but steadily pulled himself from the sticky mixture, feeling weariness seep into his limbs. He knew that he had only enough energy for one final attack. Anything else was out of the question. He got to his feet as the airborne sand thinned out and Jones' outline became visible. Soon, the sand finished falling to the ground and the two pirates stared at each other, panting. A sneer spread across the Jones' face as he saw the pirate stumbling towards him. "Still alive, whelp? Well, take this: Eight Tailed Cat!"

A veritable swarm of razor-edged whips slashed through the air, each one easily capable of shredding the weary alchemist. Alexander managed to fall onto his hands, rolling so that his legs were towards the enraged fighter. He cried out in pain as the whips flew into his defense, his makeshift armor shrieking in protest. When he threw himself out of the roll, his legs nearly buckled. Groaning and looking down, he saw that his legs were beginning to bleed significantly, draining his energy even more. However, he forced himself on, only a few meters away from the irritated man.

Jones, seeing the blood, gave a sigh of relief. "Thank God, I thought you were some immortal freak or something. Be grateful; not many have seen this attack. Nine Tailed Cat!"

"Eau Magie!" Alexander shouted as he reached his opponent and grabbed hold of the deadly whips with his ungloved hand. Jones' eyes widened and he yanked hard, shredding the flesh on Alexander's palm. But the alchemist was not to be deterred. The whips morphed into water, falling limply to mix with the blood on the arena sands. He turned to the shocked Jones and gave a fleeting grin, succumbing to the usual result of Damien's fights: unconsciousness due to blood loss. "Looks like it's a tie, mate. Acier… Mag… ie…"

He fell forwards, his gloved hand managing to snag a corner of Jones' clothing. Jones was about to retaliate, but couldn't. He soon realized that he couldn't move. His clothes had been turned into solid metal. Alexander's had been metal connected by the original tough cloth, a very important difference. The former was a metal prison while the latter made for some improvised armor. Jones screamed in fury upon realizing the truth. The musician had defied all odds and managed to turn the match into a draw. And there was nothing the trapped pirate could do about it.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Raven watched impassively as Lyn burst onto the arena to retrieve the portly musician, absorbed in her own thoughts. Cassandra's first mate was by far the most interesting pirate she had encountered. She wasn't afraid of Raven, which intrigued the smaller woman. Lyn's fearlessness was not like the navigator's, who actually didn't understand concepts like fear or morality. No, Lyn's fearlessness stemmed from faith, the belief that there was good in everybody. What an absurd concept.

But it was this faith that had prompted Raven to meet up with the first mate twice during the past five days. Lyn had been more than happy to see the curvaceous doctor and wander through town with Raven trailing behind her, watching Lyn's every move. She had happily answered every one of Raven's questions, ranging from the former nun's past to her opinions on her crewmates, and didn't seem to be put off by Raven's refusal to answer any of her own questions. Through this, the doctor had learned a great deal about the Black Glove Pirates. Perhaps they were fitting protectors of Cassandra after all…

"Black Glove! Your doctor's up!"

Madaxe's shout instantly drove all musings out of her head. There was killing to be done. She felt no need to show off; after all, flaunting one's abilities is an unwise thing to do. She only wanted to kill her opponent and that would be the end of it. She hopped down off of the stone barrier separating the sands from the stands, freezing when a hand fell upon her shoulder. The hand was too light to be the berserker's and too small to be the alchemist's, so it had to be one of the other women. This, she would tolerate. "Yes?"

"You don't have to do this," Cassandra began. "You're not one of my pirate-"

"I am going," Raven replied, calmly walking onto the field. She examined her opponent with a critical eye, making sure to remember every detail. The man, dressed in a flashy crimson outfit, was built like the crazed navigator: lean yet muscular. His tanned muscles twitched under his chainmail every time he moved, revealing their hidden strength. Locks of dark hair fell in front of his face, almost hiding his analytical gaze. As he strode forward, his cape swept to the side, revealing row upon row of glinting doctor's tools. But what Raven found most peculiar about him was the myriad of stitches he sported, connecting every limb and every feature to his body.

"Why hello there!" he called, waving his arm energetically. "I'm Doctor Igor Hogback! Yes, ladies, I'm related to the legendary Dr. Hogback, who was able to raise the dead!"

Unimpressed by this mythical feat, Raven pondered her next move. Reaching into one of her countless pockets, she withdrew a single small bottle, filled to the brim with a deadly poison. "Orsk Dulug."

To the average eye, she simply vanished and reappeared behind Hogback. However, to those with unnaturally sharp gazes, her actions were clearly visible. She had propelled herself by the unwitting doctor, seized one of his scalpels, coated the tool with her poison, and landed directly behind him.

Without turning around, she stabbed the scalpel into his lower back. She sensed that something was wrong the instant the scalpel penetrated his flesh. Instead of dropping to the ground in paralyzing pain, Hogback merely laughed and turned to face her. "That's quite some speed you've…" he trailed off, staring at her in amazement. "Your eyes… they're beautiful!"

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Raven told him, trying to figure out why the man wasn't dead yet.

"I want your eyes," the doctor declared, wrenching the scalpel from his back and wiping it on his sleeves. "And what I want, I get."

He turned around, attempting to grasp her arm. She deftly evaded his move, snatching two more scalpels from his body and slipping out of his reach. "You have some counter to poison."

"That's the truth!" he said jovially, withdrawing a handful of needles and quite a lot of string. "I've trained myself to resist every poison on this planet!"

"Raakhat," Raven whispered, disappearing and reappearing behind him. Nobody moved for a moment. Suddenly, a loud shriek rent the air as two trails of sparks erupted from his chainmail. Hogback let out a cry of alarm as twin lines of blood cut vertically up his face, neatly framing his mouth. Slowly, blood began to drip from Raven's scalpels, staining the sands below.

However, the laughter bubbling up from Hogback's throat was enough to give Raven pause. "Well done, lady. However, I was fast enough to avoid most of your attack and do a little something else…"

Raven twitched and immediately noticed what was wrong. The needles he had taken out were sticking out of her skin in a startlingly accurate formation. The needles punctured every spot where, on any normal human being, a vital nerve cluster rested. If she had been anybody else, she would be completely paralyzed. However, she had been raised differently than most human beings and was consequently immune to such attacks. She stood there like a patient viper, waiting to strike.

"Well, lady, it looks like your time is up," Hogback said, ignorant of the fact that she could move. She observed that the cuts along his face had already been stitched, an impressively quick feat even for a talented doctor. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like your eyes. You see, I'm trying to build the perfect body. I have nearly flawless skin, the most powerful muscles, great teeth, a great nose, great ears, but I need your eyes to complete my collection." He raised a scalpel to her face and began to advance. "Good luck in the next life…"

"Your plan would have worked were it not for one fact: my nerves are arranged differently than yours. _Trod_…" Raven felt no remorse as she whipped the scalpel out of his hands, taking care to slice his palms open as she did so, and discarded it in the sands. Before he could cry out, she tapped her palms twice, causing her two waspknives to shoot from their containers on her wrist. Pointing the spikes at her opponent, she concentrated hard and whispered, "Raakhat."

In the blink of an eye, she kicked off the ground twelve times and hurtled around her opponent, her eyes quickly skimming over his body and locating his unprotected nerve clusters. She flew around him, stabbing her poison-coated spikes into him with deadly precision. She brought herself to a sudden stop and withdrew her waspknives, facing a shocked Igor Hogback. "If you were any other human being, you would be long dead due to my poisons. As it is, you are completely paralyzed."

Realizing the truth in her words, Hogback fell to his knees, staring up at her pleadingly. "Have mercy, woman. As the clear loser, I beg you, have mercy. Give me a painless death…"

Raven crouched down and stared into his panicked eyes. "Mercy is a weakness, Doctor Hogback. Ghaashurz Nûl."

She walked around the fallen man, stopping as she faced his back. Brushing his hair off of the nape of his neck, she let her eyes rove over his stitched skin, searching for a particular nerve. If, when she struck, she missed it by even the tiniest fraction of a centimeter, he would go into a berserk frenzy and killing him would be considerably harder. She had to find the precise point, or it was all over. Luckily, she knew human anatomy backwards and forwards.

She located the nerve in seven seconds.

Closing her eyes and concentrating hard, she gave him a light flick on the base of his skull, releasing as much of her killing intent as she could into that brief connection. Ignoring Hogback as his sigh of relief turned to a wail of shock, she turned around and walked to Cassandra and her crew. She didn't have to turn around to know the results of her attack; the earsplitting screams of pain from the dying man were a clear indication that she had completed her part in this piratical foolishness. Ignoring the looks thrown in her direction, ranging from disturbed to respectful, she leapt onto the railing and crouched, observing the next fight with inky black eyes.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Swordswomen! Front and center!"

Lyn grinned as she strode onto the arena, glad that she had dressed in only a bikini top and shorts. It was _baking hot_ in this place! She kicked off her shoes, artfully flicking them back to her crewmates. The sands were pretty hot, which could probably serve as a reminder to be light on her toes. In one fluid movement, she unsheathed her rapier and rested it on her shoulder, grinning cheerfully at her opponent. "Hi! I'm Lyn!"

"Sabrina…" This woman looked depressed or bored, gazing dully around the arena with eyes almost invisible through the copious amount of eyeshadow she was wearing. She held a side-sword in one hand and a round buckler in the other. Despite the absurd heat, the woman was clad in a black long-sleeved shirt and black pants. Lyn shook her head, amazed at the people tha-

She barely managed to bend over backwards, narrowly avoiding being decapitated. She pursed her lips as she straightened and glanced at the sword that had almost killed her, hopping lightly from one foot to the other. "Sabrina… oh! I met your grandmother, who is one helluva woman, lemme tell you that! She did mention that you were a swordswoman too, but I never imagined that you'd be one of Madaxe's pirates!"

"You talk a lot," Sabrina commented, aiming once more for her opponent's head.

Lyn dodged to the side, deflecting the sword with the tip of her rapier. "One of my nakama says that too. Then, again he's an old-fashioned prude who thinks he dresses well…"

"Ah, your musician?" Sabrina asked. "Dripping Pain!"

Lyn yelped and swiftly retreated, barely managing to avoid the series of rapid blows. She glanced at the slices Sabrina had made on her stomach, eyeing the slightly bleeding diagonal one across her belly button. "Yeah… See, that's why I don't like wearing too much clothing. It's too freaking hot out and the clothes are going to get ruined in a fight, so what's the point? Taco de Billar!"

The corsair neatly sidestepped, attempting to disarm her opponent with a flick of her wrist. "Why do you talk so much? Do you not take me _seriously?_" She emphasized this last part as she was forced backwards by a flurry of thrusts.

"I do," Lyn said casually, preparing for her next attack. "It'd just seem so boring to just fight a one-on-one battle without getting to know your opponent." She backflipped away from a vicious slash and landed in a crouching position, thrusting out with her rapier. "Taco de Billar!"

Sabrina gasped as the blade sliced into her side, leaving a shallow cut along her ribs. "Why would you get to know your opponent if you'll only be fighting them for a little while? Shards of Agony!"

"Ow! Shit!" Lyn cried out as the corsair's arm began slashing furiously, far faster than the former nun had anticipated. For every three attacks she parried, a fourth pushed through. A cut on her cheek, a hole in her leg, a slash across her sternum… the attacks never seemed to cease. She eventually began to detect her opponent's rhythm, managing to score a few hits of her own. Finally, after deflecting a particularly powerful stab, she whirled around and swung her beads at Sabrina's face, forcing the woman to stumble backwards.

For a moment, both women merely stood there, panting lightly. Then, as if the fabric had just realized that it had been cut, Lyn's top and Sabrina's sleeves dropped to the ground. The former nun quickly stepped back, completely uncaring that her admittedly fantastic chest was exposed to the world. "Was that really necessary?" she admonished, cocking her head to the side.

"Anything for victory," Sabrina responded, raising her sword to attack once more. "Are you ready to suffer defeat?"

"Lyn!" a cry came from behind the first mate, causing her to spin around. "Catch!"

Lyn's face twisted into an amused grin as she saw Cassandra take off her black outer shirt and throw it into the air. She didn't think that she needed the shirt, but if her captain was offering it… She dashed toward Cassandra and propelled off the ground, snatching the garment out of midair. She landed hard and tucked her legs to her chest, rolling tightly as she fastened a single button across her chest. Hopping up into a crouching position, she drew her rapier back and grinned. "Anything for victory, huh? Carta Volando!"

Sabrina's eyes widened as a hair-thin cut appeared on her cheek, despite the fact that Lyn was a good twenty meters away. "You're one of them… the masters of the sword who can use the air itself as an extension of their weapon…"

"Ha! I wish!" Lyn exclaimed, standing up straight. "I dunno how I do this, but it isn't because I-"

She had to bend over backwards again to avoid being torn in half. Sabrina, who hadn't moved from her position, prepared her next attack. "If you can attack from range, I see no reason why I should hold back. Crushing Despair!"

Lyn sprinted forward, twisting to the side and dodging the invisible blade that swept by her. Not letting up her speed for a second, she madly swiped away Sabrina's blade and bulled into the woman, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Though both were temporarily winded, they sprang to their feet and lunged at each other, only just realizing that they had both lost their weapons in the clash. They settled for locking arms, trying to force the other one to the ground.

"I still don't understand why would you want to get to know your opponent," Sabrina said through clenched teeth as they teetered back and forth. "Doesn't that make it hard for you to kill them?"

"I don't kill my opponent," Lyn hissed back, ignoring the searing heat on the soles of her feet. "Never have and never will."

"Foolish girl!" Sabrina hooked her leg around Lyn's knee and jerked hard. Lyn cried out as her leg buckled out from underneath her, falling backwards to the hot sands. Sabrina landed heavily on top of her, pushing her forearm hard against the former nun's throat. "Give no mercy for you shall be given none!"

Lyn's electric blue eyes widened as the corsair whipped out a jagged dagger and raised it into the air. Thrashing about wildly, she managed to push Sabrina off ever so slightly and free her left hand. Quick as a flash, she socked the corsair in the eye and, as the woman recoiled in pain, twisted out from underneath her. Scrabbling around in the sands, she quickly found what she was looking for and sighed in relief. "Abalorio Corbata!"

Sabrina let out a startled cry, which was quickly cut off as the loop of beads tightened around her throat. Lyn threw her elbow against the base of the woman's skull, stunning her, and pulled hard, tightening the beads even further. She held her head away from the flailing limbs, ignoring the painful cuts Sabrina's dagger was making on her arms. Her grip started to slip as blood began trickling down onto her hands, but she wouldn't let up. Giving a victorious shout, she gave one final yank as Sabrina fell still.

Releasing the woman with a flick of her wrist, she let a small, pained grin creep across her face. Slowly walking over to her fallen rapier, she shook it slightly to rid the hilt of errant grains of sand and slowly resheathed it, listening to the sharp sound of metal sliding on metal. Turning back to the woman, she ran her bloody hand through her dyed hair and sighed. "Sorry, Sabrina. Maybe next time…"

She frowned, staring more closely at the corsair. After staring for one or two seconds, she realized that the woman's chest was not rising and falling, as it should be, nor were there any other signs of life. She rushed over to her fallen opponent and knelt down beside her. "Oh no. Oh nonononononononoNO! Wake up, Sabrina, wake up!"

* * *

That's part one, everybody. Stay tuned for the conclusion of Lyn's fight as well as Cassandra's and Damien's.


	21. The Pirate's Wager, Part II

And the second part is here. Hope you like it.

* * *

"Oh no. Oh nonononononononoNO! Wake up, Sabrina, wake up!"

She pounded on the woman's chest, willing with all of her heart for the woman to inhale. Seeing that Sabrina wasn't responding, she bent over the woman and tried one last set of compressions. Panic coursing through her body, she leaned farther over and, after pinching Sabrina's nose, closed her eyes, and administered mouth-to-mouth. She'd willingly throw herself into the deepest pit she could find before she was responsible for somebody's death.

"Oh, _hell_ no!" A strong fist collided with Lyn's jaw, sending her reeling backwards. Rubbing her mouth in pain, she watched in amazement as Sabrina coughed heavily and sat up, staring at the first mate with a mixture of disgust and amazement. "I dunno about you, miss, but I don't swing that way."

Despite her wounded mouth, Lyn's grin returned full force. "Oh, don't be such a prudish weakling. I didn't want you to die on me!"

"Weakling?" Sabrina murmured, putting a hand to the dark bruises already developing on her neck. "I'm no weakling, yet you beat me. Maybe there is something to this mercy thing…"

"The hell there is," Lyn scoffed, standing up and wiping a trickle of blood from her split lip, only to smear the blood from her wounded arm all across her mouth. "Wait till you see my navigator kick your captain's ass. Then you can see just how far 'mercy' will take him."

"As if," Sabrina shot back, accepting Lyn's bloody hand and heaving herself to her feet. "Captain will pound that punk into the ground."

Lyn shook her head, her fierce grin never leaving her face. "The fight is a tie, isn't it?"

"You beat me," Sabrina said firmly. "You get the win."

Nodding and laughing merrily, Lyn began turning away to return to her crew, but Sabrina stopped her. Catching the first mate by surprise, the corsair whirled the confused woman around and drew her into a quick hug. "Thanks for bringing me back," Sabrina whispered into her ear.

Lyn nodded and returned the hug in kind. After a short pause, she pulled away and was about to head back when Sabrina gave her one last light punch to the jaw. "And don't let me see you dying before I can beat you again!"

"I'll be waiting!" Lyn responded, bounding cheerfully over to the rest of the Black Glove Pirates. Alexander was gaping at her in shock, Cassandra's lips were curved upward in amusement, Raven merely stared at the approaching woman, and Damien's wrathful glare was still directed at Madaxe. Lyn rubbed the back of her head and gave a small laugh. "Well, that turned out just right, donthca think?"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"At least you didn't ruin my shirt," Cassandra told her with a grin. There weren't many people she knew that would attempt to bring a foe back from the dead. A smile still gracing her lips, the pirate captain gazed upwards at the statues of the Pirate Kings, wondering which of the two pirates would be summoned next. Logically, she was a captain, but she had a hunch that Madaxe would be saving his battle for last. After all, he was a captain as well.

"There will be a brief intermission, for the next battle has some special arrangements," a voice boomed, magnified greatly by the Den-Den Mushis scattered about the arena. "Everybody, feel free to move about the stadium."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "What the hell does…"

She trailed off as a short man waddled up to her and bowed his head. "I presume you are Black Glove Cassandra?"

Raven appeared between the two. "And if she is?"

"Enough, Raven," Cassandra murmured, gently pushing the doctor aside. Then, to the man, "I am."

"Your presence is required outside the arena," the man said, stepping backwards cautiously. "Just you."

"Very well," Cassandra consented. "Lead me."

The man turned around and began exiting the stadium. Cassandra made as if to follow him, then doubled back and gestured for the others to huddle together. "I have a feeling about this match and I don't like it," she stated in a low voice, eliciting some looks of concern. "Damien, at the first sound of shooting, you're to use your wings as a shield. Raven, tend to them if they get wounded and _don't_," she added sharply. "Follow me. Stay with them, you understand?"

Raven stared coolly into her hazel eyes, but slowly nodded. Cassandra clapped Lyn on the back, straightened her hat, and walked after the man. Keeping her hands on her pistols, she glanced around, remembering every little detail. She was surprised when, upon exiting the arena, the man turned to her and held up his hand, pulling an oversized pocketwatch from his pants and glancing at it. "Please wait for two more minutes."

Satisfied that she would be given more instructions in due time, she leaned against the column near the entrance and waited, closing her eyes and falling into a meditative trance. She didn't increase her senses yet, choosing instead to conserve her energy for the fight.

Her brow crinkled in irritation as somebody approached her before the minutes were up. Eyes opening immediately, she focused her keen gaze on the man who was cautiously approaching her, a long brown package held in his hands. She stared at him, waiting for him to explain himself.

"For you," he said, bowing as he offered the package to her.

Flicking her throwing knife into her hand, she easily slit the paper and string from the object, her eyes widening as she saw what it was.

There, much to her amazement, lay the sniper rifle she had ordered, gleaming brightly in the sunlight. Boxes of ammunition fell to the ground, threatening to burst open. Lifting the rifle away from the packaging, she saw one last thing that she didn't immediately recognize. A long band of black leather, outfitted with a series of snaps and clasps, tumbled to the ground. The corners of her mouth lifted as she realized what it was. _Thank you, Father. This is the best present you've ever given me_.

She was in the process of looping the black leather bandolier around her body, stretching it from her left shoulder to her right hip, when the short man approached her again.

"You may now re-enter the stadium." Nodding, she strapped the rifle to her new bandolier, placed the ammunition in her pockets, began to walk back down the path. "No, not that way." She turned to him, confusion evident in her eyes. "You and your opponent are to locate the other and kill without knowing exactly where they are."

A smirk of understanding spread across her face as she removed her hands for her pistols. This is what she excelled at. She was extraordinarily proficient at locating and killing targets. The only problem she could think of was that she didn't know what her opponent looked like. She never expected Madaxe to play fair, but that just made it all the more exciting. She was about to depart when the salesman spoke up again. "And your special order, miss."

Cassandra caught the tiny box in one hand and flicked it open with her thumb. A single bluish green ring sat nestled between two blocks of velvet, barely reflecting any sunlight at all. Grinning happily, she pocketed the ring and tipped her hat to the man, uttering a single word: "Thanks."

Then, after making sure the rifle was securely strapped to her back, she began ascending the stairs, choosing her level wisely. Too high, she would stick out like a sore thumb. Too low, she wouldn't be able to see a good portion of the stands. She decided to go higher rather than lower, sacrificing concealment for vision. It wouldn't do if she couldn't find her prey, after all.

Two levels from the top, she walked into the sunlight and through the tightly packed stands. Ducking underneath a vendor and pushing a man out of the way, she removed the white cowboy hat from her head and placed it on a nearby post, not wanting to attract attention to herself. Sighing lightly, she sliced away most of her bright orange T-shirt, for it too would draw too much attention. She didn't remove her bright red boots, however, for she reasoned that they were hidden behind the seat in front of her.

"Where are you…" she wondered, scanning the stands before her. "Voluntas Carnae."

She closed her eyes and inhaled, searching for any abnormal concentration of gunpowder among the sea of pirates. Nothing stood out, which irritated her, but didn't displease her.

Suddenly, a barrage of bullets echoed out, causing the audience to roar in approval. The roars swiftly transformed into cries of surprise as giant red letters began appearing in the stands. She quickly yanked her new rifle from its strap and put it next to her cheek, using the scope to see what was happening. Mutilated bodies lined the stands, blood freely pouring from a multitude of wounds. The blood coalesced into letters, the letters became words, and the words eventually formed a giant red taunt.

"_Come out, come out, wherever you are_," she read, frowning in disgust. Adjusting the lenses, she analyzed the direction of the blood spatter and, running through a series of calculations, determined the approximate location of her opponent. Unfolding the legs that formed the stand and placing them on a vacant seat, she crouched down and looked through the lenses, slowly scouring the stands for the gunner.

"Found you," she hissed as she spotted the man, who was laughing maniacally as fired upon the bystanders. This was something that she would not tolerate. She quickly ran through every option and came up with a plan. Taking careful aim, she peered through the lenses and tightened her grip on the trigger. "Saggita Diania!"

The recoil sent the rifle smashing into her cheek, breaking it with a loud _crack_. She gritted her teeth and gave a muted scream of pain, putting a hand to her wounded face. Falling backwards on her rear, she rolled on the ground, wishing that the pain would go away. She needed to get up and claim her victory. So, forcing her way through the pain, she staggered to her feet, grabbed her hat, strapped her rifle to her back, and stumbled over to the slide, slumping against the edge.

After waiting for the pain to fade away slightly, she climbed to her feet and rolled into the slide, beginning her rapid descent to the sands below. She used the precious time to recover some more, waiting as the throbbing pain began to fade away. Then, just as she was about to reach the slowing section of the slide, she leapt into the air, using her momentum to fly onto the sands. However, her legs crumpled as she hit the ground, sending her tumbling to the sands.

"I'm okay!" she called to her crew upon hearing their shocked cries. Planting a hand on the ground and pushing herself to her feet, she spun her rifle by the trigger guard and tucked it back onto her bandolier, strapping it in securely. Listening to the audience roaring its approval, she nodded and turn to view her handiwork.

When she caught sight of her opponent, she froze. He was peeking out from behind a familiar green-white battleaxe, a victorious grin plastered onto his face. Madaxe had, at the last possible second, placed Basilikos in front of the gunner, protecting him from any of her gunfire. She growled to herself, knowing that she had run out of options. "You are dead!" she seethed.

"Fuck you!" her opponent shouted, training his guns upon her. "I ain't gonna kill ya, so when you lose, I'll be the first to ride!"

Cassandra broke into a sprint, ducking and weaving across the sands so as to make her harder to hit. Bullets whizzed past her, occasionally skimming across her skin. As she drew closer, the bullets began coming closer and closer to her flesh, but she didn't care. She would kill that rapist and she would return to her crew. She would have preferred to shoot Madaxe's hand and force him to drop Basilikos, but she didn't want to risk her navigator's wrath. Who knew what the man would do if denied of his proper revenge.

"Ira Iunonia!" She began shooting as well, forcing him to duck behind Basilikos once more, for her shots were far more accurate than his. She reached the other side of the arena and vaulted over the stone barrier, landing right in front of Madaxe. He gave a cruel smile as he swung Basilikos at her, but her determination was too great. She leapt back onto the stone barrier and pushed off, easily dodging the massive blade.

"Why aren't you dead?" the gunner screamed, aiming his pistols at her.

"Because I will be Pirate Queen," she hissed as she landed behind him before he could fire. "I will not die before then!"

"There's no way that you'll be-"

His sentence was cut off as she placed her pistol at the back of his head and fired, sending a geyser of bone and brain flying through his shattered jaw.

Having completed her fight, Cassandra realized that she would have to get out of there as quickly as possible. Madaxe looked livid and was obviously fully intent on beheading her right then and there. So, without further ado, she jumped over the gunner's corpse and hit the sands running, still not wanting to rob Damien of his revenge. She could hear Madaxe's heavy breathing and footfalls behind her. She poured all of her energy into running, knowing that he would catch up sooner or later.

She was quite suddenly hurled forward through the air as something exploded directly behind her, catching her completely off guard. Craning her head around, she realized that she was heading directly towards the stone stands of the colosseum. She braced for impact and prayed that she wouldn't break her neck.

What she was not prepared for was landing on something reasonably soft. Her head spinning furiously, she gazed around, trying to figure out what was going on. Her gaze fell upon a pair of familiar electric blue eyes glittering with excitement. "Nice job, Captain!" Lyn chirped. "Did you really have to kill him?"

Cassandra's brow crinkled in confusion as her mind tried to process what had just happened. Looking around, she saw that Lyn had caught her and that they were currently sitting on a stone floor littered with spherical metal bullets. The first mate had decided to unbutton her borrowed shirt, letting gravity protect her modesty. Cassandra stared up at the mostly-exposed woman, her mind slightly rattled from the explosion. "What just happened?"

Raven flickered over to the pirate captain, staring hard at her cheek. "You need a cold compress for that bruise and bandages for your injuries."

The pirate captain waved it aside and asked her question again. "What just happened?"

A dry chuckle came from behind her. Craning her neck around, she found a semi-conscious musician with bandages on his hand and legs. "The gunner tried to kill us. Fortunately, Damien protected us with his metal wings and Raven bandaged me up."

Frowning, she let her stare rove about the area. "And where is said navigator now?"

As one, the crew raised their eyes to the battlefield. Climbing out of Lyn's arms, she rested heavily on the stone barrier and gazed out across the sands. Damien was climbing out of a massive crater, his entire body save for his left arm flaming brightly. His metal wings were partially folded in plain sight, giving him a demonic appearance. Farther across the arena, Madaxe was rising to his feet, looking even more furious than before.

All at once, the puzzle pieces fell into place. "While I was running, Damien landed in front of Madaxe." She slumped back against Lyn's chest, her mind trying to process this information. "He saved me..."

Alexander nodded proudly as he looked out over the arena. "I told you he was protecting you."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Madaxe!" Damien roared as he stomped out of his creter with earthshaking footsteps. "I toldja, yer figh' is with me, corpsefuckin' cumguzzler!"

The enormous pirate had recovered from his rather brief flight and was lumbering towards the psychotic navigator, clutching his mighty battleaxe Basilikos in white-knuckled fists. "Today seems like a good day fer yeh to die, crippled whelp!"

Giving a primal roar at the mention of his useless arm, Damien flicked out his working digits, listening to the fifteen talons zipping into the sunlight. The crazed pirate bounded forward, intent on finishing off his opponent as quickly as possible. Madaxe began running as well with the exact same goal in mind.

The two fighters met in the middle with a bone-rattling _crash_, whipping up a miniature sandstorm and hiding the combatants from the audience. Gritting his teeth, Damien pushed as hard as he could, trying to gain the upper hand. Madaxe growled right back at him, trying to force the battleaxe closer to the man's throat. Then, all the concentrated power forced the two men apart, sending them flying out of the cloud of sand. Damien skidded for a few meters along the sands, using his claws to slow himself down. Realizing that the sandstorm was shielding him from view, he fully extended his wings and used them to boost his jump into the air, aiming to catch the Shichibukai's son off guard.

He succeeded. With a cry of "Diavolo Falcone!", he fell like a meteor, plowing directly into the unsuspecting man and forcing him to the ground. Using his good hand, he lifted Basilikos up and threw it aside, rendering Madaxe weaponless. "I've got ya now, cocksucker!"

"Lightnin' Strike!" What he wasn't expecting was a set of brass knuckles slamming into his chin, dazing him and lifting him into the air. Ordinary men would have broken their bones attempting such a feat. Madaxe was truly something else. The massive pirate got to his feet as Damien landed on the ground, rubbing his jaw in amazement. "Whassa matter, runt?" Madaxe taunted, lumbering over to the downed navigator. "Didn't think th' big bad pirate'd stand a chance wit'out 'is axe? Relentless Onslaught!"

The demonic pirate scrambled to his feet, a pleased grin plastered on his face. "This is fun! Diavolo Toro!"

Despite their size or weight, the two men began throwing a flurry of punches at each other, sending shockwave after shockwave rippling though the sands. In terms of strength, Madaxe far outstripped the smaller man. But Damien's sheer tenacity and destructive force was channeled into every punch, enabling him to keep up with the powerful corsair. His biggest weakness was his left arm, which left his side vulnerable to attack. Unfortunately for him, Madaxe had no such weakness.

Indeed, when Madaxe realized that he had the advantage, he executed a series of erratic punches, finishing with a vice grip on the navigator's crippled arm. Swinging the wounded fighter around, Madaxe threw Damien into the side of the arena, sending him smashing deep into the stone stands. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Damien pushed himself away from the crumbled stones and grinned, licking his bloody teeth happily. "This is what I call a fight!" he shouted exuberantly, his head spinning dangerously. "But there's one tiny problem…"

"Oh yeah?" Madaxe called, slowly climbing to his feet. "And what is that?"

Damien gave a wild laugh, a red fog beginning to creep into his vision. "I NEED MORE BLOOD!"

**Red.**

He watched as if he were merely a spectator, somebody residing inside his head and looking out through his eyes, but unable to control the body's movements.

**Red.**

He had thought that his true boodlust would only emerge around Marines. Clearly, he was mistaken.

**Red.**

He watched as his body used his flaming, clawed right hand to cut Madaxe while pirouetting around so he could use his left arm like a flail. He was thankful for getting his armored black glove on his left hand. It made his ordinarily useless arm into a deadly mace. That way, even if he couldn't use it, he still had weapons on each arm: metal claws and a metal fist.

**Red.**

He reveled each blow dealt by him and winced at each blow dealt to him. Time became a nuisance, something to be ignored during the battle. There was only each clash, each blow, and nothing else.

**Red.**

Somewhere along the line, Madaxe had picked up his axe again and sliced a gash across his right eye. Now, not only was blood clouding his mind, it was also literally preventing him from seeing clearly. Damien realized that his lips were drawn back in a terrible grin, fangs glinting brightly as he bit off a chunk of Madaxe's arm. He threw his head back and swallowed, laughing at the disgusted expression on Madaxe's face. He used his clawed toes to carve deep gashes into the man's leg, hoping to cripple him. No such luck. Madaxe sent him flying with a kick to the ribs, but he merely shook it off and stood back up. He would probably be out for a couple of days after the fight, but his will and adrenaline kept him on his feet.

**Red.**

His madness was only increasing as the battle progressed. He would win, but at a terrible cost. His crewmates would never look at him the same way again. But he didn't care. Fuck them. He owed them nothing. He owed his Captain. He would fight for her and he would fight for her dream. But most of all, he would fight because it was what he liked to do. And he was very good at it.

**Red.**

Then, something truly unexpected happened. His vision swam and the world dimmed as Madaxe slammed the battleaxe's poll into the back of his head. He was knocked to the brink of consciousness, but not like he usually was. Normally, he slowly drifted into the blackness as the amount of blood in his body fell below the amount required to keep him awake. But being forced was different. It was as if he was falling down a never-ending well, slamming painfully into the sides as he went down.

**Black.**

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra winced as Damien stumbled to the ground, eyes glazing over as he fell back into the sands. Madaxe gave a victorious roar as he raised Basilikos above his head, aiming to decapitate the berserker in one blow. She instinctively raised her rifle and aimed it at the enormous pirate. No matter how insane her navigator acted, she wasn't going to lose him. She wasn't going to lose any of her crew. She was going to keep all of them alive. That was her charge, her duty as captain.

She was about to pull the trigger when a bandaged hand fell upon the barrel of her rifle, knocking it downwards. She turned in confusion to the weary musician. "Do you want to see him killed?"

Alexander shook his head stubbornly. "Have faith. He will be the best fighter in the world for a reason."

A surprised shout drew her attention back to the arena. Glaring through half-lidded eyes, Damien had somehow grabbed the battleaxe by the blade just as it was about to sever his neck, his arm never wavering in the slightest. Madaxe poured all of his might into bringing the axe down, but Damien didn't budge. In one sudden move, he sent it spinning from its owner's grip, grasped its handle, and threw it like a hatchet.

Madaxe's left arm was cleaved cleanly in two, from the first knuckle to his shoulder.

Cassandra merely stared on in horror as Damien shoved Madaxe off of him, knocking the enormous man flat onto his back. The berserk navigator leapt onto the large pirate and proceeded to smash his fist into Madaxe's body again and again, blood liberally coating his arm. "I thought he was unconscious," she muttered to herself. "How could he still fight?"

"Knocking him out is no mean feat. Hothead, that's enough!" Alexander called, hoping to attract the berserker's attention "He's learned his lesson."

Damien continued his brutal beating, oblivious to everything around him. After setting his hand on fire, he began viciously tearing at the man with his claws, slinging blood and gore all over the surrounding sands. Cassandra felt slightly sick, never having suspected that she would see her navigator's berserk bloodlust first hand. She suddenly jerked her head around, remembering that Lyn was there as well. Her face a delicate lime green, the first mate had turned away from the gruesome sight and was taking deep breaths to keep herself from throwing up.

"Listen, Lyn…" she began, unsure of how to proceed.

"You don't have to say anything, Captain. I'm just glad he's on our side." Though the first mate put on a brave front, the disgust and terror in her eyes belied her words.

Cassandra sighed. "Remember that, no matter what he's doing, he would never hurt me or you or Alexander or Raven."

"Ah, Captain?" Alexander piped up. "I'm not so sure that last one is entirely true."

"What makes you say that?" Cassandra asked, turning back towards the arena sands.

To her surprise, Damien was striding purposefully in their direction, apparently satisfied with the thoroughness of his revenge. His eyes were no longer dull with near-consciousness. Instead, a deadly glare was locked on Raven, who was still perched on the stone barrier separating the audience from the combatants. Raven merely stared at him expectantly, waiting for him to make the first move. Eyes widening, Cassandra leapt between them, holding her hands out wide. "Damien, stop. Raven is not your enemy."

He casually jumped over her head, deviating neither to the right nor the left. Quirking her mouth with irritation, she reached out and grabbed his shoulder, leaving him with four options. He could remove her hand by burning it, crushing it, moving away and dragging her with him, or halting. Unfortunately, he chose the third option.

"Damien," she said as she stumbled behind him. "Listen to me. Even though she nearly cut your throat open, Raven has still tended to your wounds and helped protect us from you when you go off the deep end."

"Don' fuckin' matter, Cap'n," he growled, wiping blood out of his right eye as he strode towards the crouching woman. "Tha' bitch sliced me, stabbed me, sedated me-"

"All to help us accept your berserk side," Cassandra cut in. "Let's face it: you are a handful. And after what we just saw, we need all the help we can get." He stopped so suddenly that she ran into him, rebounding onto her backside. After picking herself up off the sands, she walked around and stared up at his partially closed eyes, at the blood trickling form the corner of his mouth and from his grievous wounds. He looked like he was about to fall asleep, but needed to finish her speech. "But-"

"Captain?"

"Hush, Lyn." Cassandra continued on, unabated. "But we're not as scared of you any more. We can see the side we need, the protective-"

"Captain…"

"Alexander, be quiet. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is-"

"Cassandra."

"What is it?" she raged, rounding on the black-clad doctor.

Raven didn't say another word, merely pointing to a spot above Cassandra's shoulder. Wondering what on earth was going on, Cassandra released her grip on Damien's shoulder and spun back around, the rest of her lecture fading away as she saw what they had been trying to warn her about.

Somehow, showing a level of constitution she had only seen in Damien, Madaxe had climbed to his feet and managed to lift the battleaxe Basilikos in his only remaining arm. He moved alarmingly quickly despite his fatal injuries, pouring every last bit of energy into his final attack. She shouted something indiscernible, trying to get Damien to turn around, but to no avail. The navigator merely coughed, expelling crimson mist from his lungs, and bent over slightly. He looked to be on his last leg, with barely enough energy left to move his tremendously heavy body any more.

Madaxe gave a triumphant roar as he swung Basilikos around with all of his might. "Come with me to Hell!"

Time seemed to slide to a stop. Noise faded away. Ever movement became a slow blur. She could see ever drop of sweat on Madaxe's brow, every speck of blood on his form, and the frantic glint in his eyes. Faintly, as if hearing distant whispers, Cassandra heard three words. "Minervae Manica Nigra!"

* * *

How will it all end? Tune in next time for another chapter of the Black Glove Pirates!


	22. Fight and Flight

And here's the final chapter of the Summer Isle sub-arc. Enjoy.

* * *

Darren Madaxe was a formidable man.

Physically, he was intimidating. He loomed over four meters tall, hundreds of kilos of solid muscle forming most of his massive body. His face seemed to be permanently locked in a lecherous smirk, though when enraged, he would turn deep red and his mouth would turn into a howling cavern of noise. And, to top it all off, he carried the massive battleaxe Basilikos with him everywhere and looked ready to use it at a moment's notice, the battleaxe that was the pride and joy of the Madaxe family.

But his appearance was not the only daunting aspect of Darren Madaxe. His reputation was known by virtually every pirate in West Blue. It was he who single-handedly took on the entire kingdom of Donab, eventually forcing the king to hand over his vast riches. It was he who entered the Marine Headquarters of West Blue, only to emerged unscathed the very next day. It was he who had the honor of being the very first combatant ever to grace the sands at the Summer Isle colosseum. He was one of the legends of the West, one of the strongest humans in the world, and one of the sons of Dart Madaxe himself, a Shichibukai so powerful that even Marine Admirals tended to avoid him.

Yes, Darren Madaxe was a formidable man.

But none of this mattered when around two hundred grams of metal blasted through the center of his forehead, slaying him instantly.

And the woman standing five meters away, Cassandra Negras, was holding her smoking rifle perpendicular to her body, a firm resolution in her eyes. She had mentally scanned through every possible scenario and this was the only one that did not involve the death of her navigator. Consequences be damned, she was not going to let any of her crew die.

The moment was completely ruined when Damien blinked widely and worked his jaw, twisting a finger into his ear. "Tha's a loud gun…"

"Oh come on!" Lyn cried out, hurdling the barrier and landing beside Cassandra. "At least compliment her awesome shot!"

"Wha's tha' about a mantra kumqua'?" Damien asked, glancing curiously at her as he slowly stood up straight. "Wha' happened?"

"Captain just saved your ass," Alexander stated. "I thought I'd never see the day when _you_ need saving."

"Enough joking around," Raven droned, appearing beside them. "Cassandra is still in danger."

"From what?" Lyn inquired, staring curiously around. "What's danger… oh."

Cassandra had caught sight of the man long before anybody else had. He, if possible, was even taller than the slain captain was. His black bandana kept his brown hair in check, though long locks of it fell to his chin, neatly framing his face. His muscles twitched as he slowly stumped forward, stretching the sunset red shirt even more tightly across his torso. His eyes were filled with disbelief as he fell to his knees beside the fallen pirate. "Darren…"

Cassandra remained silent, her mind working as fast as it could, figuring out who this man was. Her unspoken questions were answered when he turned his wrathful gaze upon her, a storm of emotions raging in his dark brown eyes. "You killed my brother," he growled out.

"I did," Cassandra said simply. There was no use denying it. Nor was there any regret in her voice.

"No…" he trailed off. "That boy, that runt, that piece of trash beat him to death and you administered the coup de grâce."

"A more accurate statement," Cassandra conceded.

Frowning, the pirate got to his feet, looming over her like a mountain. "Are you afraid of me?"

"No."

"Any regrets about your actions?"

"None whatsoever."

"And you are aware that I could smite you where you stand."

"Of course."

"That I have every right to."

"Certainly."

"Then why do you not show fear?!" he roared, clenching his hands into fists. "You killed Darren Madaxe, one of the most important pirates in West Blue, one of the most important pirates in the entire world, in direct violation of the arena's rules and the terms and conditions of the Pirate's Wager, which clearly state one-on-one battles with no outside interference! To top it all off, you did this in the shadow of the Pirate Kings, after professing your pitiful desire to become Queen of the Pirates, and in front of all his supporters, who are armed to the teeth and itching to rip apart their idol's killer or their captain's killer, and his older brother, Derrick Madaxe!"

Cassandra blinked, trying to process by his enraged words.

"Why are you not afraid?!" he bellowed, repeating the point of his rant.

"Because I have a nun with no sense of propriety, a berserker I can't control, and an alchemist who knows more about pirating than his captain does," Cassandra replied. "With them at my back, I am not afraid."

She heard Lyn coo "Aww, that is so _sweet!_" in the background, but decided to ignore it.

The enormous pirate, on the other hand, looked livid. "I would tear you apart myself, right here, right now, and enjoy myself doing it, but I have a better idea." He turned to the anxious audience and spread his arms out wide, filling his cavernous chest with air. "Pirates of Summer Isle! You have just seen your champion slain in violation of the codes that he took part in creating! The culprit is there!" He pointed to Cassandra. "I offer a substantial reward to whoever is able to deliver her alive and breathing at my doorstep! You may do whatever you want with her so long as she arrives in one piece! Beat her, humiliate her, violate her! It matters not to me, but be creative! The reward will be whatever you like, just deliver her to me! What do you say to that, my good pirates?"

Cassandra internally winced at the sheer volume that the crowded pirates were making. She knew that she did not want to find out what these corsairs had planned for her. Images of torture and rape flashed through her mind, chilling the blood in her veins. Derrick Madaxe turned back to her, grinning nastily, and leaned in for emphasis. "And when they give you back to me after having their despicable fun with you, I will personally see that you are thrown into the deepest level of Hell I can find and stick a Den-Den Mushi down there with you so that I can watch you writhe in agony for all eternity."

Cassandra was tempted to laugh at his rather melodramatic statement, but knew that incensing the pirate further was not a good idea. Instead, she merely spun her rifle by the trigger guard, sending it flying into its holster with a flick of her wrist. She securely strapped the weapon in and adjusted her hat, preparing to deliver her laconic response. "Good luck."

Lyn laughed aloud and raised her rapier into the air, watching the pirates surge towards them. "And with that, the Black Glove Pirates make their dramatic exit!"

"Indeed," Alexander added. "Let us fly!"

"I will lend my aid," Raven whispered. "My life is yours."

Damien staggered to the side, coughing up more blood. "Let me figh'…"

Cassandra gave a dry smile, drawing one of her pistols from its holster. "Raven, the best way you can aid me is by keeping Damien alive. Once he's well enough to fight, you can begin helping any way you see fit." She turned to her other two crewmembers. "As for you two… fight!"

"Am I good to go?" Alexander asked Raven, a blend of anticipation and disdain in his voice. "Or am I not strong enough to fight for my captain's life?"

Pausing from her administrations, Raven glanced at the bandages around his legs, hands, and the single one wrapped around his head. "Do what you can."

Alexander adjusted his broken glasses, causing the shattered lens to fall out of the rim. "Do what I can? _Trompette Sonnerie!_"

An entire group of pirates was blown away, howling in pain as the very air vibrated within their lungs. Alexander gasped for air, slumping to the side. Lyn quickly caught him, making sure he didn't fall to the ground. "Good job, prissy boy. Come, to the exit!"

The enemy pirates surged forward, bellowing battle cries and wielding a multitude of lethal weapons. "Not good…" Cassandra glanced around, mentally weighing her options. For them all to escape alive, they would all need to be in reasonable condition to run for at least ten minutes to arrive back at the ship. The problem was that they were all tired to some degree from their previous fights and that the fresh spectators would overtake them instantly. If only there was a way to slow them down for a moment while Cassandra and her followers could regain some much-needed energy…

Her eyes fell upon the hallway leading to the exit. Knowing that this was unfortunately the best option, she shot her pistols into the air to attract the attention of her followers. "Listen up! Get outside the arena! From there, we'll bar the doors and catch our breath, then we get to the _Howling Knave_ and escape! Let's move!"

"Aye!" Lyn and Alexander shouted in agreement, following her orders to the letter. Raven trailed behind them, her attention focused on the oncoming pirates. Damien didn't budge, his eyes sliding in and out of focus.

"Damien!" Cassandra called. "Captain's Orders!"

The phrase seemed to shake him from his daze. He glared at her, his hackles slowly rising and exposing his razor-sharp teeth. Cassandra felt Raven begin to move and instinctively threw her hand out to stop the curvaceous doctor, hoping that the navigator would listen to her on his own. The pirates were just coming within arm's reach of the navigator when he made his decision.

Spinning around, he filled his lungs with air and reared back. "Diavolo Drago!"

A massive fireball erupted from his mouth as he threw his head forward. Watching with satisfaction as the pirates screamed in agony, Damien turned back towards them and began lumbering forward, the earth shaking slightly with each step he took.

"You just need to trust him," Alexander called from his position by the door.

Cassandra nodded as she retreated through the archway, holding her pistols loosely in her fingers. Raven and Damien followed behind her, the latter slamming the massive doors closed with a brisk flick of his arm. The four men and women stared at Cassandra expectantly, exhibiting various signs of weariness. "Okay, catch your breath and we'll head out s-"

The double doors shook as something enormous slammed into them, threatening to spew for the legions contained within. Damien slumped against the doors, his massive weight preventing them from opening at all. Enraged shouts and the sounds of metal biting into the wood came from behind the doors, signaling that they had better recover quickly.

"I'll… stall them," Alexander managed, placing both of his hands on the door. "Acier… Magie!"

The doors took on a dull grey sheen and their violent shaking soon diminished into mere quivers. Cassandra shook her head in despair at the situation. This would stall them at this entrance, but there were countless others lining the edge of the colosseum. There was no way that they would not be running to those doors to get at the wanted quintet. At this rate, she and here friends would be trapped in a massive pincer movement.

"Lyn, run along that wall until you find another doorway," Raven droned, practically reading Cassandra's mind. "Hold them off for as long as you can."

The first mate nodded and began jogging down the massive stone wall, searching for another exit. Raven dematerialized into a black blur, speeding in the other direction. Cassandra chuckled at the doctor's acuteness. She should really try convincing Raven to join the Black Glove Pirates despite her unpopularity with the male crewmembers. The woman would be an unbelievably useful asset to the crew. Unfortunately, she seemed too set on her own path. She was only repaying an old debt, nothing more.

"What are you thinking about, Captain?" Alexander asked after a short while, having recovered enough to talk without gasping for breath.

"What life would have been like had I not become a pirate," Cassandra replied easily.

Alexander nodded slowly. "And?"

"It would be so… boring," Cassandra said. She grinned, then winced, remembering that her cheek was still wounded. Though Raven had bandaged it with something cold, it still had a bit of healing to do before it was back to normal.. "And I never would have met you two."

"Betcha wish ya hadn'," Damien grunted, his vision having regained its normal predatory quality.

"Would you stop saying things like that," Cassandra sighed. "As I said not five minutes ago that you, just like Lyn and Alexander, are part of my crew and that I accept you in your entirety, the good parts and the bad parts."

"That is so _sweet!_" Lyn exclaimed, popping up beside Cassandra.

"Although I might have to make an exception in your case," the pirate captain growled good-naturedly, knowing that the first mate could take a joke. "Aren't you supposed to be guarding the gate?"

"They never showed up," Lyn responded airily. "I grew bored."

"Did you bother checking out what they were doing?" Cassandra asked.

Lyn thought about this for a second. "Mmm… oh yeah! You might want to move aside. All of you."

Cassandra wondered what she was talking about, but listened to the first mate's counsel anyway. Alexander followed suit, but Damien remained where he was, examining the bandage Raven had wrapped around his arm. The pirate captain was tempted to advise him to move, but quickly dismissed the idea. The number of instructions per day the navigator listened to was somewhere around one, so it was foolish to attempt to get him to do anything.

All of a sudden, the massive metal doors exploded outwards, spiraling crazily through the air. Damien was knocked flat on his face, causing Lyn to erupt into laughter. Her amusement was swiftly quelled as countless pirates spewed forth from the arena, murder in their eyes and battle cries on their lips. Cassandra was not about to find out how they would exact their revenge for the death of Darren Madaxe.

Cassandra emptied her pistols into the mob flying towards them, easily reloading them with a flick of her wrists and watching what her crewmembers were doing. Lyn was weaving between them like an angry wasp, inflicting hindering but not lethal wounds upon her adversaries. Alexander helped further clog up the opening by turning clothes into metal and preventing his victims from moving. Damien's rage motivated him to fight once more, plowing his way back into the arena for some reason. A black blur further reduced the enemy numbers, leaving ribbons of blood streaming through the air.

"Voluntas Carnae!" Cassandra once again forced her system into overdrive, straining her body's limits. "Ira Iunonia!" She emptied another round into a mass of pirates threatening to overwhelm her valiantly fighting first mate. Despite his grievous injuries, Damien was fully immersed in the crowd, directing most of them away from Lyn. Shaking her head in amazement, Cassandra called over to her first mate, "How are you holding up, Lyn?"

"Hunky dory, Captain!" Lyn responded cheerfully, nailing a pirate with a roundhouse kick. "I think Alexander might need some help, though. Mural Rojo!"

Cassandra turned around and saw that Alexander was fighting on his own with a few pirates who had managed to slip through the gory entrance. Catching a corsair who had landed beside her and easily snapping his neck as she did so, she frowned as another appeared to her left, brandishing a small hatchet. She calmly pointed her pistol at his jaw and pulled the trigger, her eyes widening as it only emitted a low _click_. She began to move backwards, but something black flashed before her, vanishing as quickly as it had come. The man's throat seemed to open of its own accord, blood spurting into the air as he fell backwards. Cassandra rolled her eyes and shouted, "Raven! Go help Alexander!" The black-clad woman appeared in front of her, two bloody daggers clenched tightly in her fists. "Now!"

"Akat." She flickered over to Alexander and stared coldly down at him, defending him nevertheless.

Cassandra nodded in satisfaction. "So long as you're helping him…"

"Opening's almost sealed off!" Lyn announced, watching the wounded and the dead pile up.

Grinning slightly, Cassandra ripped the uncomfortable bandage from her face and tossed it aside. Reloading her pistols once more, she turned towards the ocean, watching the sun glinting off of the distant sea. Without looking back, she shot a pirate attempting to sneak up behind her. She and her friends were going to escape with their lives.

Without warning, something massive landed before her her with a groundshaking _crash_, blocking their retreat. Derrick Madaxe straightened to his full height, a vengeful glare clouding his face. He held Basilikos in his white-knuckled fist, his brother's blood dripping from the massive blade. His sneer widened as he raised the battleaxe, roaring angrily, "You will only leave in my hands!"

"Outta th' way, faggot!" Cassandra was wondering what to do when she was violently knocked to the side, falling into Raven's waiting arms. She stared in shock as Damien flew at Madaxe, blood streaming from him in crimson streams. He gave a bestial roar as he threw his fist forward, sending the pirate flying with a single punch. "Diavolo Gorilla!"

At this point, Cassandra believed that nothing on Earth could stop her navigator when he was in the mood. Cassandra's hand found its way onto Raven's wrist, keeping the woman from harming the berserk navigator. The doctor turned to the pirate captain, silently demanding an answer. Cassandra pulled herself to her feet, rubbing at the cut at the base of her ribs. "He really is protecting us."

"Have faith in your crew, Captain," Alexander piped up, turning a man's clothes into glass. "It will pay off in the end."

Having halted the pirates' advance, Cassandra and her friends ran away from the stadium at top speed. By Cassandra's request, Raven was leading Alexander by the hand, ensuring the exhausted alchemist kept up with them. Damien knew that the fastest way to the _Howling Knave_ was going in a completely straight line. So, despite his taxing injuries, he managed to keep ahead of the other four people and bulled through any building standing between him and the ship. Lyn was still lagging behind them all, keeping any pirates from catching up with the quintet.

The chase seemed to last for an eternity. Cassandra's breath came in ragged gasps as her energy seeped from her limbs. She was constantly slipping on the puddles of blood and piles of rubble Damien was leaving behind. Though the cuts and scrapes she had received bothered her no longer, her body still occasionally throbbed with pain. She was suddenly glad that she had given her outer shirt to Lyn and had cut away the rest of her orange one. The heat was almost overwhelming, causing sweat to flow down her limbs.

Alexander and Raven had begun to fall behind. Neither of them was really built for extended runs, their breathing becoming more labored as every second passed. Damien was forced to mount them on his shoulders lest they be overtaken by the pirates chasing them. Lyn was somehow keeping up with the powerful navigator, fluidly vaulting over any debris left in his wake. She seemed to he having the most fun, laughing as if it were all a mere game. At least one of them was enjoying themselves.

After just over ten minutes, they made it back to the ship in one piece. Cassandra mentally ran through her options. Damien was about to pass out, Raven's drugs the only reason that he was still on his feet. Alexander was not far behind, his eyes too threatening to close. Lyn was eager to escape, though the strain of the day's events was evident in her eyes. And Raven… she was orbiting around the pirate captain, checking for injuries.

Waving away the black-clad doctor, Cassandra flew up the rigging to the crow's nest, bellowing orders as she went. "The wind's picking up, my friends! Lyn, cast off lines! Raven, loose the sails! Alexander, tie everything down! Damien, man the wheel! Don't worry about being chased; I'll be sniping them off to keep them off our back! Let's get out of this hellhole!"

* * *

Thus ends the adventure at Summer Isle. I hope you liked it...


	23. Fleeing and Gambling

And here they are again: the Black Glove Pirates. Where will their epic adventure take them next?

Beginning of arc disclaimer: I do not own One Piece. This especially comes into play as many concepts that Oda thought of are used in this chapter.

* * *

Alexander threw a few coins at the news bird, which saluted him and flew off. Sitting up straight in the patio chair he had dragged up from one of the storage rooms, he opened the newspaper and scanned the pages. As usual, he was compelled to read the entire paper before reporting anything to his captain. He was forced to deviate from his usual routine, however, when a pile of yellowish posters fell to the floor with faces and numbers on them. Frowning as he picked them up, he let his gaze rove over the papers as he realized what they were.

"Hey Captain!" he called. "This week's updated bounties."

Cassandra looked up from the tome she was reading, her hazel eyes glinting in the morning sunlight. "Any interesting ones?"

She waited as the musician fumbled with the posters, the bandages around his left hand preventing him from holding them properly. The injuries from the whipmaster Jones were most serious on his palm, though the jagged scars on his legs also merited a roll or two of white cloth. Other than those wounds, the musician had only suffered from exhaustion and some rather sore muscles. "Well, none of us received bounties. However, there's one that you might find interesting…"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow as he threw over the poster, catching it out of midair. Straightening it with a flick of her wrist, she raised an eyebrow as she stared at it. The picture depicted a startlingly beautiful crimson-haired woman, grinning coyly over her shoulder at the camera. The left side of her head seemed to be dissolving into a wave of white, revealing some sort of hidden power. Her visible eye was a deep emerald green, nicely complementing her chocolate brown skin. Wondering why the alchemist wanted her to see it, she glanced at the text underneath.

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

"_Empyrean" Shar D. Bol_

_149,000,000 Beli_

Cassandra frowned at this. "The Third Pirate King has a sister?"

"Yeah, and it looks like their parents lacked imagination when it came to naming their children," Alexander noted. "Although, I have to say, she is pretty good-looking."

A thick paintbrush smacked him in the face, leaving a long streak of pink across his face. Sputtering as he dropped some of the papers, he removed his glasses, staring at the paint-covered lens. "What was that for?"

"Stop drooling over a pirate who's way out of your league," Lyn told him, pushing yellow-dyed strands of hair from her face while picking up another paintbrush. "It's unhealthy."

Lyn, as usual, had bounced back with full force. It truly seemed like nothing could dampen the first mate's spirits. Despite the deep slashes along her arms and the shallower cuts all over her torso and legs, she had been jumping around the morning after a good night's rest. She busily decorated her bandages every time they were changed, never drawing the same designs twice.

She was currently in the middle of painting something involving a lot of pink and purple. Cassandra had no clue what it was. But so long as the former nun was occupied and not pestering the rest of the crew, she didn't particularly care either. "I am not drooling over her!" Alexander protested. "Look at her!"

Neatly catching the poster and peering at it, Lyn dipped her head in agreement. "She is gorgeous…"

"So why are you yelling at me for it?" Alexander shouted, still trying to clean off his glasses.

"Hearing you say something like that is just…" Lyn paused, searching for the word. "Weird."

Cassandra rolled her eyes, trying to resume reading.

"I am a perfectly normal young male adult and as such I believe I have the right to compliment women," Alexander retorted. Before Lyn could respond, he shook his head and held up his bandaged hand. "Damien, don't you think she's pretty?"

No answer.

"Damien?"

Something erupted from the side of the ship, causing them all to start. Cassandra dropped her book; Lyn dropped her paintbrush; Alexander dropped the rest of his papers. They all rushed to the side, wondering what was going on. A dark shape was flying away from them, a shape that Cassandra quickly identified as a half-stunned Raven. She stared at the doctor, cocking her head slightly to the side in confusion.

"An' don' ever try ta kill me again, ya bird-fuckin' 'ore!"

Cassandra gnashed her teeth together, leaning as far out over the side as she could. "Damien, what have I told you about destroying the ship?"

"Didn' mean to," he called back.

"What about Raven?" Lyn asked. "Shouldn't you be concerned about her?"

Cassandra shook her head. "She's almost as hard to get rid of as Damien is."

Indeed, the petite woman had somehow halted her momentum and was currently zipping back through the air, leaving small clouds of condensed air in her wake. Lyn and Alexander stared in shock, mouths gaping wide open. "How is that even possible?" Lyn gasped.

"That's Raven's secret to tell," Cassandra responded. "Ask her."

Raven flew back to the _Howling Knave_, vanishing through the hole she had created. Cassandra could faintly hear her talking to the navigator, followed by: "Don' gimme orders, bitch! You ain' th' cap'n!"

The trapdoor to the sickbay slammed open and Raven appeared by Cassandra's side. "He is fine," she murmured.

"I can hear that," Cassandra said dryly.

"And very angry."

"I can hear that too."

"He is a danger to you and Lyn."

"I highly doubt that."

"Shall I subdue him?" Raven droned, extending a spike from her wrist.

"No," Cassandra sighed. "And let me see that."

Raven offered the weapon to her. Cassandra gently took it and stared at it analytically. It was a flattened black tube-type object, about the length and width of her middle finger. One end of it was covered in a rubber seal with an X carved out of the middle, the other end covered in a screw-off cap. The capped end had a short strap attached to the tube while the sealed end had a longer strap connecting to either side. A small button lay at the middle of the longer strap. "I've always wondered what these were…"

"Waspknives," Raven said, taking the contraption back from her. She tapped the button twice and a knife, almost as long as the tube, shot out of the sealed end. The edges were blunt, but the end looked incredibly sharp.

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. "Interesting. I'm assuming that there's some sort of poison inside the tube that coats it, as this could never actually kill somebody unless you punctured an artery."

"Almost correct," Raven responded. "This particular one has a powerful sleeping drug, while the one on my right arm has the poison."

"Most interesting," Alexander said, having come over to look at what they were doing.

"So the rubber seal prevents the liquid from escaping and you refill it via the other end?" Cassandra asked. "But what makes the knife fly out?"

Raven reattached the weapon to her arm and flexed her fingers. "I strap it on my wrist so that the button is on my palm. When I push the button twice-" A loud cannon blast interrupted her explanation.

Cassandra quickly jumped up and ran back to the side of the ship. "Hmm."

An entire battalion of ships had appeared behind them, with cannons blazing and black pirate flags flapping in the wind. The ship in front was a massive galleon, the biggest one Cassandra had ever seen. It bore a giant skull on its sail with crossed axes behind it, red blood dripping from them. _Madaxe…_

Damien clambered noisily from the medical ward, bandages tightly wrapped around his entire body. Even his head was covered, though his face was visible and his dreadlocks hung over the bandages like lava from a volcano. Thanks to Raven's dutiful administrations, he was able to move about the very day after their dramatic escape. Two days after their departure of Summer Isle, he had apparently regained enough of his strength to launch a woman hundreds of meters through the air. "Fan-fuckin'-tastic! Another brawl jus' waitin' fer me ta-"

Cassandra tapped his forehead with the butt of her pistol, cutting short his sentence. "Here's a term I want you to learn: self-preservation. I don't care if I have to tattoo it on you. I know; you're going to be the world's best fighter. But don't die from loss of blood."

"Um, guys?" Lyn chimed in. "Battleships heading this way?"

"Right…" Cassandra nodded. "Lyn, Raven, ready the guns! Damien, remember that we're heading for Spring Isle! Alexander, stay on deck, but get below if we spring any leaks!" She looked around as her crew vanished to do their respective tasks. She jumped onto the rigging and scampered up to the crow's nest, relishing the chance to use her new sniper rifle. Ever since Summer Isle, she had strapped it to her back or, if she had to remove it, never let it out of her sight. She slipped in a round and cocked the sniper rifle. Using her throwing knife, she carved a notch into the crow's nest, laying the rifle in the rim.

"They're coming!" Alexander roared out from below.

Cassandra ignored him, using the scope to scan the deck for the captain. The moment she set her eyes on the figure marching around the deck with an atrociously large hat, she pulled the trigger. The gun shot backwards and would have dislocated Cassandra's shoulder had she not been prepared for the immense recoil. She watched in satisfaction as the man slumped, blood gushing out of a wound in his chest. She heard the shots of pistols and rifles, but knew that the pirates were nowhere near close enough for their bullets to reach the _Howling Knave_. "Great gun," she muttered to herself.

She was about to fire off another round when a large black crow alighted on her shoulder, catching her completely off guard. Glaring evilly at it, her eyes fell upon the scrap of paper wrapped around its leg. Deftly removing the paper and unfurling it single-handedly, she sighed and read its contents. A displeased grimace grew across her face as she continued to read the note. After reaching the end, she crumpled the paper in her gloved fist and threw it into the ocean. "He wants me to meet at Spring Isle? I'm not an assassin any more; I'm a free pirate! He has no right to check in with me!"

The crow cocked its head to the side, staring at her curiously. "Caw?"

It took every ounce of willpower not to wring the bird's neck. "Fine. I will be there. Now piss off."

The crow dipped its head and flew away. She clicked her tongue in irritation, turning back to the battle at hand. She tried to concentrate, but her thoughts were too focused on her father's orders. Apparently, after her demand 50,000,000 Beli, he wanted her to meet with the representative on Spring Isle. Admittedly, the amount was a bit much, but she deserved as much for his constant negligence during her childhood. Shaking her head to rid herself of the past, she thought ahead to the future. A wicked smile began to grow across her face as she remembered that he had said 'representative.' Representative meant that the person was of no importance. If she had to strangle some poor underling to convey a message, so be it.

She was jerked from her thoughts when the foremost ship brought out a massive cannon onto the deck and loaded in a cannonball. She would have to think of Spring Isle at some other time. "Turn, Damien! Evasive action on the double!"

"'Old on tight, mates!" she heard Damien shout from the poop deck. She felt the ship give a sharp jerk as it abruptly turned right and began to accelerate.

"What the hell are you doing!" she yelled down to her navigator. "We're on our way to Spring Isle! To the west lies a gigantic maelstrom!"

Damien gave a fearless laugh, spinning the wheel with his single arm. "Now, now, Cap'n! Ya gotta trus' yer navigator with yer ship an' its course! We're gonna ride th' whirlpool away from these ass-lickin' bilge-rats!"

"You'd better be right!" Cassandra shouted, shooting at another ship's captain. Still adjusting to the powerful recoil, she looked over to her left. She could barely make out a gigantic hole in the ocean concealed in a hazy mist. Even leagues out, the massive vortex Nemuartsksom had enough power to churn the ocean into mighty currents. Damien was doing an admirable job of managing to stay with the current while not being sucked in closer. She glanced downwards to see that Alexander had slumped back onto his patio chair, casually flipping through his newspaper. She could hear the pair below the deck, shooting cannon shots to ensure the pirates didn't want to follow them.

The ship's speed continued to increase, causing the enemy ships to fall behind into the distance. She could hear the cheering of her crewmembers below her and she grinned. Her grin faded as she realized the ship was still accelerating. She glanced down at the helm, wondering what she was more hopeful for: her navigator fighting to control the wheel or letting it run its course.

Her heart sank when she saw the latter: Damien still laughing heartily, keeping his balance despite the bucking ship. "Avast, mateys! 'Tis a fuckin' good day ta fight wit' th' briny blue!"

"Now is not the time to clash with nature!" Cassandra yelled. "Turn away now!"

"While captains are in charge of the crew, navigators and shipwrights are in charge of the ship," Alexander called up. "With him as our navigator, we will not end up in Sir Davy's locker. Count on that."

For what seemed like an eternity, they sped through the pulsing waters, leaving the other pirates far beyond the horizon. Finally, with a loud roar, Damien put all of his considerable weight on the wheel. The ship gave an ear-splitting groan and tilted dangerously to the right, nearly flinging Cassandra into the churning ocean. She gritted her teeth and held on tight, surprised at the feeling of elation she felt. Despite her perilous situation, she was actually enjoying herself.

Like a rock from a trebuchet, the ship finally pulled away from the powerful maelstrom and shot off towards Spring Isle. Her exhilarated chuckles blended with Damien's fearless laugh as she holstered her rifle and gripped a nearby line, preparing to leap from the crow's nest. But at that precise moment, the ship lurched back upright, sending her flying to the deck below. She crashed to the deck and rolled into the railing, groaning in pain. "Ow…"

After waiting a few seconds for her head to clear, she latched onto the railing and pulled herself to her feet. She felt around for any injuries, pleased to find none. She suddenly heard the cannonflaps close and realized that the two women were about to ascend back to the deck. She quickly slipped off her black glove and reached into her pocket, sliding the ring she had purchased onto her middle finger. She barely managed to put her glove back on before Raven and Lyn emerged into the sunlight.

"Are you okay?" Raven immediately asked, eyeing Cassandra carefully.

"Fine," Cassandra groaned. "I didn't fall from that far."

"It sounded pretty loud to me, Captain," Lyn said brightly. "You fell from really high up."

"You seem uninjured," Raven murmured suspiciously. "Yet it sounded like you fell at least one hundred feet."

"Look, I'm not invincible," Cassandra said, unsheathing her shoulder knife. "See?"

She made a thin cut on her right thumb, eliciting a small wince from Lyn. Holding up her slightly bleeding finger, she allowed Raven to wind a bandage around the digit. "Satisfied?"

Raven nodded and vanished, not reappearing within Cassandra's line of vision. Lyn stared at the spot the curvaceous woman had previously occupied, chuckling slightly. "You're the only normal person on this ship, Captain. Aren't you lucky."

"Yeah," Cassandra agreed, rubbing her left thumb against her middle finger. "Aren't I lucky."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Alexander, it's your turn to do the dishes," Cassandra said as she stood up from the table.

The stout musician nodded as he put down his fork and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "I'll get started on it right away."

Dinner with the Black Glove Pirates was certainly interesting. Lyn and Damien would eat with borderline atrocious manners, a stark comparison to Cassandra and Alexander. The pair stubbornly refused to correct their rudeness, choosing instead to eat, as Alexander put it, "like savages." They were loud, they ate with their hands, they had belching contests… The only reason why Cassandra didn't join in with the alchemist's admonishments was because Lyn was actually getting along with Damien who, in turn, was finally not looking as if he wanted to incinerate everything in his sight. So she merely rested against the back of her chair, grinning amusedly over the brim of her glass.

"Is Raven still on watch?" Lyn asked, brown and red chili all over her face. "She should join us."

"In case you hadn't noticed," Cassandra said. "She's not exactly a people person."

Alexander leaned over the counter, accepting an armload of dirty dishes from his captain. "And having her and Damien in such close quarters hasn't proved to be a constructive experience."

Lyn waved the matter aside. "She does eat, right?"

"I do." Raven materialized beside Cassandra, staring emotionlessly at the first mate. "Spring Isle is in sight."

"Good," Cassandra murmured, nodding in satisfaction. "Lyn, could you drop the anchor and raise the sails? We'll continue the rest of the way after sunrise."

"I'll do it only if we get to play poker afterwards," Lyn stated, crossing her arms childishly. "I want to play poker."

"With what cards?" Alexander asked. Grinning madly, Lyn spread her hands through the air and a line of cards seemed to appear out of nowhere, educing a sigh from the musician. "Just say yes, Captain. It'll be easier on all of us."

Bouncing with delight, Lyn left the galley, not bothering to close the door behind her. A loud splash could be heard seconds later and the _Howling Knave_ slowed to a soothing bobbing motion. After the sounds of fabric rustling, the first mate reappeared and sat back at the table, impatiently ripping the cards from their box. "So, wanna play hold 'em?"

"Five-card draw," Damien grunted, picking a piece of meat from between his teeth with a talon.

Lyn nodded and began furiously shuffling the cards, eager to begin the game. Cassandra went over to help Alexander with the dishes so that he would be able to join in more quickly. Between the two of them, the chore was completed in record time and the four pirates were sitting around the table, waiting for Lyn to finish shuffling.

"You sure you don't want to play?" Cassandra asked Raven, who merely shook her head.

"Wait a moment," Alexander cut in. "How are we going to place bets? We don't have any money."

Cassandra thought about this before abruptly getting up and leaving the galley. She ascended to the women's quarters and quickly located one of her many stashes of money she had hidden about the ship. Swiftly counting out 40,000 Beli, she replaced the remaining money and rejoined her crewmembers in the floor below. "I think that 10,000 Beli each would be sufficient, don't you think?"

"Are we going to run out of money?" Alexander asked idly, accepting his stack of bills. "Because I don't really feel like becoming the cash cow, so to speak. Using alchemy to help us economically doesn't appeal to me."

"Don't worry about it," Cassandra assured him. "Nobody's going to make you turn wood into gold against your will."

Alexander grinned and briefly bowed his head. "Thank you, Captain. Now, shall we play?"

"Ante up!" Lyn shouted as she swiftly dealt out the cards. "200 Beli minimum."

Silence fell over the galley as the four players peered intently at their cards. Cassandra scanned their expressions, seeking any tells that might give away her crewmembers. Alexander, the one she had suspected would be the worst at keeping his face calm, was surprisingly unreadable. He even managed to keep the cards from reflecting in his glasses, showing that he had played cards more than a few times before. Lyn's beaming smile was still gracing her face, never changing in the slightest. Damien was eyeing at his cards as if he expected them to submit to his will. She turned back to her own cards. It was not a poor collection of cards: starting out with a trio of kings accompanied by a nine and an ace. She had definitely seen worse hands before.

"First round of bidding!" Lyn announced, staring at the pirate to her left expectantly.

"Fuckin' 'ell, you're excited," Damien grumbled. "500 Beli."

"I'll call that," Cassandra said, tossing in her bill.

"Call," Alexander agreed.

Lyn's grin never wavered. "700."

"Call."

"Call."

"Call."

"Fantastic," Lyn said, holding the deck out to Damien. "Want any cards?"

"I'll take two," Damien grunted, picking two cards out of his hand and putting them aside.

Lyn quickly burned a card and gave him his requested cards. "Captain?"

"Two, please," she said pleasantly, discarding her numerical cards and receiving a five and a two. So she wound up with three of a kind. She only hoped it was good enough.

"And you, Alexander?"

"I'd like two."

Lyn treated herself to three cards, which struck Cassandra as odd. Why would the first mate raise the bid if she was going to discard three of her five cards? Either Lyn was really good at poker or she had no idea what she was doing. Knowing the first mate, the answer to that was entirely unpredictable. "Damien?"

He paused, still attempting to intimidate his cards. "800."

"Call," Cassandra said, keeping her face straight as she placed her bills on the table.

"I fold," Alexander informed them, placing his cards on the table.

"I'll call your 800 and raise you another 200," Lyn chirped.

Damien's gaze flicked over to her, toying with his bills. "Fuckin' 'arlot... call."

"Call," Cassandra repeated, feeling less certain about her cards.

Lyn nodded happily and showed her cards for the world to see: a pair of queens and a pair of twos. "Wha'd you guys get?"

Damien flipped his own cards onto the table, two pair as well. Allowing a smirk to come over her face, Cassandra revealed her three kings and collected her winnings of 9,700 Beli. "Shall we play again?"

Sounds of agreement echoed throughout the galley. The games continued for a short while with everybody fully concentrated on the game. The money flowed freely among the pirates, none of them holding onto any large amount for a decent period of time. Lyn appeared immensely pleased with the success of her idea, for none of the pirates had objected or complained once throughout the games. They all realized that the money was only to keep the game interesting, not so that they would win. In fact, the chore slips Alexander had proposed after a particularly painful loss on his part were more valuable to them, giving them the opportunity to skip out on whatever the piece of paper dictated, be it washing the dishes or a turn on watch.

"So, why did you decide to become a pirate, Captain?" Lyn asked after a while as she dealt out the cards.

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Well, I certainly didn't want to just work on a single island all the time and I am a pretty good fighter. Plus, being a mercenary isn't quite as fun. Also, this is the Second Great Age of Piracy. What could be better than to sail the seas at this time in history?"

"The Second Great Age?" Lyn inquired. "When was the First?"

"A long, long time ago," Alexander chimed in, tapping his knuckles on the table. "When the legendary Gol D. Roger was executed, he gave a speech which began the First Great Age of Piracy. Almost three decades later, Monkey D. Luffy became the Second King of the Pirates, continuing in Roger's footsteps. When he died, the Age of Dreams, which had previously been a nickname for the First Great Age, became its own period of time in history. Countless pirates took to the seas, all with high hopes.

"However, dark times were on the horizon for pirates all around the world. In a cataclysmic event set off by Monkey D. Luffy's toppling of the caste of World Nobles and the revolution led by the Pirate King's father, Monkey D. Dragon, the Three Great Powers, the Marines, the Shichibukai and the Yonkou, met in a brutal clash. The Gorosei managed to revive the legendary superweapon Poseidon and used it to turn the tide in the Marines' favor, eliminating the pirates and upsetting the balance of the world. But they were too greedy and too shortsighted to realize what they had done and proceeded to rampage through the world, ridding the seas of anything that stood in their way, pirates included. Except for small pockets in the Calm Belts, piracy was extinct."

He paused as Lyn pretended to fall asleep on the table, snoring loudly. Damien was also paying little attention to the alchemist's history lesson, though Cassandra supposed that he had heard all of this before. "Continue," the pirate captain prompted as she threw down her cards in defeat.

"Anyway, roughly fifteen years ago, a man named Gar D. Bol publicly announced that he would find One Piece and reintroduce piracy to the world. The World Government, now a totalitarian system, sentenced him to death, but he somehow eluded their omnipresent grasp and did what he said he would do in a mere few years. The World Government was powerless to stop the oncoming tide of revolutions as country after country found itself in brutal rebellion. While most government systems were still part of the World Government, the seas were freed again. Pirates took to the seas once more and here we are, in the Second Great Age of Piracy."

Cassandra nodded, impressed with his knowledge of history. Lyn propped her head on her hands, staring curiously at the musician. "And how do you know all of this?"

"I grew up among pirates, remember?" Alexander said with a grin. "We heard stories about everywhere while we grew up." His face saddened as he remembered what had happened to his home.

"So that's why the Marines were so brutal with your island," Lyn murmured. "All piracy must be erased."

"Aye," Damien growled, raking in his winnings. "An' now we're wit' you, Cap'n."

There was a brief silence as Cassandra dealt out the cards. "Speaking of which," Alexander spoke up. "Why did you join the crew, Lyn?"

"I was a nun," Lyn began, before being interrupted by the musician's low chuckle. "I was! But they were so boring and one day, Captain came up and freed me!"

A short pause. "Just like that?" Alexander asked.

"Just like that," Lyn repeated. "I was never really fit to be a nun. I was always listening to the talk of the city people, who were always so nice to me. Merchants talked about the lands far away, bartenders talked about ways to live life to its fullest, thieves talked about pirates-"

"You dealt with thieves?" Raven interrupted, startling them all slightly. They had almost forgotten about the silent doctor's presence.

"Yeah," Lyn said offhandedly. "I worked with them too, though I always returned what I stole. Anyway, I was just waiting for a chance to escape and Captain came along. She was captured because her body, mind, and soul were corrupt or something."

Cassandra leaned back in her chair, remembering the event. "That was certainly an experience…"

"What are you talking about?" Alexander asked, tossing a bill to the middle of the table. "Corrupted body, mind, and soul?"

"Well, the biggest problem was the fact that I had killed people," Cassandra explained. "So they incarcerated me with her and we escaped that night."

Damien grunted loudly. "They captured ya for killin'? You were righ' ta escape."

"Killing is not to be taken lightly by those with a kill count of zero," Cassandra told him. "Just because you have the most number of kills out of all of us-"

"Even me?" Raven droned.

Cassandra looked back at her. "I'm not sure, actually. I don't think so."

"What about you, Raven?" Lyn piped up. "Do you have any stories to tell?"

The doctor merely stared at her with jet-black eyes, remaining completely silent. An awkward quiet descended upon the galley, which was broken as Damien slammed his cards onto the table and stood up straight, his teeth bared in an unpleasant growl. He stormed from the galley and into the darkening night, swiftly vanishing from sight. "What was that about?" Cassandra wondered aloud.

"Who cares," Lyn said casually. "Raven, are you sure you don't want to join in?"

Raven shook her head once. Alexander sighed, gave Lyn his cards, and walked out after the fuming navigator, sighing loudly and tightening his jacket against the cold night air. Cassandra gave an apologetic smile to Lyn and leaned back in her chair. "At least we had one bonding activity, eh first mate?"

"You got it, Captain!" Lyn shouted exuberantly. "That's progress towards real unity right there!"

* * *

Well, I managed to work in a bit of my own post-Monkey D. Luffy history along with a couple other interesting tidbits. Hope you enjoyed it and tune in next time for the arrival and events at Spring Isle!


	24. Paternal Intervention

And a few days after I thought I'd have it up, here it is, the 24th chapter of the Black Glove Pirates. Enjoy.  


* * *

"We're going to reach land in maybe half an hour!" Alexander called down from his position in the crow's nest.

Shaking her head in at the lack of wind, Cassandra put down the book she had been reading and stretched, listening to the tiny _pop_s her bones made as they strained against each other. She tipped her hat out of her eyes and stared at the slowly growing island, wondering what adventures lay in store for them there. Shaking her head, she chuckled to herself. Whatever 'adventures' were there, her crew would certainly find a way of making them interesting.

"Whatcha readin', Captain?" Lyn asked suddenly.

"History." Upon hearing no response, Cassandra swiveled around, raising an eyebrow at the scene before her. Damien was slumped onto the wheel, his eyes drooping closed and his jaw slack. Lyn was leaning against the poop deck railing with a large bowl full of apple seeds – probably from the cores Cassandra had discarded earlier – and was busy flicking them at Damien's half-open mouth. He would lazily catch and consume them, not bothering to move from his position.

"What was that?" Lyn blurted out after flicking a few more seeds at the semi-conscious navigator.

Cassandra sighed and picked up her book, waving it at the former nun. "History, I said."

Lyn's expression turned to one of confusion. "But, Captain, history is so boring. What about poetry or fantasy, stuff that's actually interesting?"

"Poetry is stupid," Cassandra stated. "And fantasy is childish. Furthermore, what do you call fantastical? A man who can lift several tons? A man who can turn wood into water? A woman who can move faster than the eye can see?"

"Okay, I'll give you that last one," Lyn said. "But poetry is the verbal embodiment of art, only instead of colors, you use words to show the other person how you feel! Do you think art is stupid?"

"Yes," Cassandra responded laconically. Then, seeing the incredibly wounded expression on Lyn's face, she amended her statement. "Well, not your art."

Lyn's beaming smile emerged once again. "Thanks, Captain!"

Raven appeared on the railing behind Lyn, gently grabbing the first mate's wrist. "Apple seeds contain cyanide. His body is mildly resistant to viruses and poisons due to his abnormal growth of white blood cells so the effects will not show right away, but once you feed him too much, you will immediately send him past his critical point and nobody will be able to save him in time."

"Aww," Lyn cooed, dropping the bowl and sending seeds flying across the floorboards. "You really do care about him!"

"On the contrary," Raven droned. "He is only alive by Cassandra's request."

"So why are you up here?" Cassandra cut in.

The petite doctor held up a roll of bandages. "He needs to be changed."

Cassandra nodded and stepped back, ready to watch her friend do her assigned task. Nodding to the pirate captain, Raven took out a thin silver knife and took a single step forward. Damien's eyes lost their sleepy gloss, narrowing instantly into his usual predatory glare. "Come near me wi' tha', ya grog-swillin' concubine, an' I'll rip off yer legs an' use 'em as drumsticks."

Raven continued forward, undaunted. "Captain's orders."

"Don' pull tha' shit wit' me…" His bared teeth glinted dully in the sunlight as he reared up to his full height. "Tis not a life 'r death sit'ation."

"Listen to her, Hothead," Alexander called down.

"A songbird in a crow's nes' got no bus'ness tellin' me wha' t' do," Damien bellowed back. "Now fuck off an' let me be."

Raven took one more step forward. Damien gave an deafening roar and spread his wings out wide, his head and right fist erupting into flames. Raven released the bandages and dropped into a ready position, extending one of her waspknives. Lyn had scooted back a bit and was holding her paintbrush ready, prepared to paint the clash to come. Looking up at the crow's nest, Cassandra could see that Alexander had jammed his fingers into his ears, blocking out the proceedings below.

Her patience with the pugnacious duo had run out. She took a deep breath to calm herself down, but she found herself growing angrier than before. Quick as lightning, she had whipped out her two pistols and had them trained on the pair, a cold glint in her eyes. "I have had absolutely enough of your senseless conflicts," she hissed. "Time and time again, I find myself hoping that you two could at least _exist_ in the same area without one of you trying to kill the other. But every single time, you end up at each other's throats and I'm sick of it."

"I do not try to kill him," Raven murmured, inky black eyes fixed on Cassandra's own.

"No, but you do need to approach him in a less confrontational manner," Cassandra snapped. "As for you, Damien, you need to let her approach you without attempting to kill her."

Damien was glaring at the petite doctor, also ignoring the weapon pointed in his direction. His hackles rose as he gave a deep rumbling growl.

Cassandra frowned, feeling that she wasn't getting through to them. "How about you two just go to opposite ends of the boat and cool off for a-"

The uncontrollable navigator suddenly leapt into the air, aiming to crush the woman under his ponderous weight. Luckily, Alexander had been watching the proceedings and knocked Damien off course with a short toot of his trumpet, sending the navigator hurtling into the sea. "You're welcome," the musician shouted. Everybody ignored him.

"But whose fault is it really?" Lyn piped up, watching steam rise from the ocean. She didn't so much as flinch when Cassandra's glare settled upon her. "I mean, Damien has a temper shorter than a pencil and can't help it. And Raven seems to have been raised by herself or something, cuz she's completely ignorant of the word 'tact'."

"Tact," Raven deadpanned, causing all eyes to land on her. "A keen sense of what to say or do to avoid giving offense."

A short silence fell over the deck, broken only by the creaking of the ship as it was gently rocked by a passing swell.

Holding her hands out dramatically, Lyn turned back to Cassandra. "See my point?"

Sighing, Cassandra reholstered her pistols. "I know, I know. I'll think of a solution when I'm not as tired. For now, Raven, I don't want you to be alone with Damien. Mors only knows what you two would do with each other."

"An interesting choice of words," Alexander whispered. "Easy to misinterpret and not one that I would have recommended."

"Then what would you recommend?" Cassandra said loudly. Glancing around, she realized that Lyn and Raven were staring curiously at her. "What?"

"We didn't say anything…" Lyn trailed off.

"It is almost midday," Raven droned. "You claim to be tired, yet you cannot actually be unless you are sick or went to sleep late. You are certainly not the former and you did not do the latter. If you heard what we did not, then you must have forced your adrenal system into overdrive. Judging by the confused expression on your face, I gather that you were not aware of this."

Cassandra turned away, keeping her face placid as she calmed her body down. _I really need to control my temper_… She was then jarringly reminded that they were about to reach Spring Isle, for the island was much closer than it had been before. Ignoring the people behind her, she put her gloved thumb to her lips, thinking about the tasks that needed to be done.

"Hey, can Damien swim?" Lyn asked. "He's been gone for a while."

"He's over there," Cassandra said without looking, pointing off to the side. She fell silent again, thinking of more important matters. They were, after all, pirates going towards a monarchial kingdom. Actions needed to be thought through lest they be arrested and executed without a moment's thought. "Anything noteworthy about Spring Isle?" she asked her musician. "Or are you not done with the paper yet?"

"No, I'm done." Alexander flipped through the newspaper he had taken up to the crow's nest with him. "Says here that King Lui Juyon's on the throne. He's a fairly just man, but can get a little overzealous when it comes to spending his kingdom's fortunes on himself."

"So the Isle's site of interest, the palace, grows grander and grander each year?" Lyn asked as Damien landed sloppily on the poop deck beside them, staggering heavily to the side.

"Yeah, and the kingdom grows poorer and poorer," Cassandra muttered. "Well, the poor don't live in squalor, but not everybody's treated the same."

Alexander tossed the newspaper down to his captain. "Looks like you know this by heart."

"As well she should," Raven said. "Being a…" A sharp look from Cassandra cut off whatever word she was going to say. "Captain, she should know these kinds of things."

Alexander looked at them both suspiciously, but didn't press the matter. "Well, in any case, the pirates from yesterday are gaining on us once again."

Cassandra frowned and leaned on the railing, gazing into the distance. She could barely make out the tiny ships that had been so close the day before. But what was slightly more troubling was gathering above the ships: storm clouds. "Yeah," she said, thinking rapidly. "Well, by the looks of things, we'll dock at Spring Isle very, very briefly, then set off to Winter Isle. We need to avoid that storm at all costs. From there, we might as well go to Autumn Isle, then make our way over to the Grand Line."

"Sounds like a plan, Cap'n," Damien grunted, ripping sopping wet bandages away from his scarred body.

"Akat," Raven whispered, vanishing from sight. Cassandra saw a black flash enter and exit the medical ward, staring on curiously. Having retrieved more bandages, some clean water, and a cloth, Raven reappeared for a moment, analyzing the irritated navigator. She then vanished once more, cleaning his body and rebandaging him as quickly as he discarded his old ones. He took a few halfhearted swipes as she flickered around him, but looked like he was more concerned with staying upright. Cassandra sighed as she saw the seawater dripping from his wounds. Any normal person would be overcome with pain, with that much salt in his wounds.

"Remember," she announced, catching everybody's attention. "We are only stopping on Spring Isle to get supplies and to avoid the pirate armada. _Immediately_ after these two tasks are accomplished, we set off to Winter Isle. Clear?"

Various noises of agreement.

"Good. Now I don't want to dilly-dally on the island so here's the plan. We land and hide our ship really well. Who wants to guard the ship?"

"I do, I do!" Lyn shouted excitedly, adding a few lines here and there to her drawing. "I want to finish this painting as quickly as possible!"

"Lyn, guarding the ship means watching over the ship, not painting," Cassandra said tiredly. "And let's not forget your past failures to watch over things."

"But, Caaaaaptaaaaain…" she whined.

Cassandra rolled her eyes and sighed. "Very well. We'll need to devise some sort of alarm system however. So, for the rest of you… Alexander, Damien, you two go get supplies: food, maps, etc. We need to be able to survive for a week or three if we have to camp out in the middle of nowhere to avoid some pirates. If I find out that one of you has demolished an entire town for any reason, I'm going to flay the culprit skinless. Got it?"

"Understood," Alexander said with a grin, knowing that the last part was mostly directed at his friend.

Damien, on the other hand, bared his teeth challengingly. "Only an entire town," he stated.

Cassandra nodded, knowing that this was as close to control as the navigator was going to have over himself. "You all have your orders. Class dismissed."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

The _Howling Knave_ bobbed gently in a hidden cove, not a scratch on it thanks to Damien's skill at steering the ship. To protect the ship, Cassandra had set up an alarm system involving a thin tripwire and pans from the kitchen. Lyn was now securely drawing while simultaneously keeping watch. Still not feeling entirely confident about leaving the woman alone, she departed.

While they were walking along the beach, Raven had suddenly vanished in a black blur. Cassandra looked around for the black-clad woman, but to no avail. While she had always known that Raven would eventually leave, she was still sad at her friend's sudden departure. But the woman had her own life to lead, now that she repaid her debt to Cassandra. The pirate captain only hoped that they would be able to meet again someday.

Cassandra was leading her two crewmembers through a chink in the tall walls separating the sea from the kingdom. Neither of them wanted to ask her about it as the wall kept going on and on, so small that they had to crawl on their elbows and knees. Well, she allowed Alexander to transmutate some of the stone into water, thus providing for a more comfortable experience, but otherwise she insisted on enduring the painful crawl. And, when they emerged, the sight greeting them was far different than they had expected.

The fields were a patchwork of green and brown, with huts and markets popping up in seemingly random clumps. The main road went to a set of gates set some distance down the walls with a perilous-looking set of guards standing at attention. The road led up to the castle, which towered above them, sunlight glinting off of its towers that vanished up into the heavens. The white castle itself was set behind another ring of walls dividing the palace from the surrounding countryside. People swarmed every centimeter of the ground like ants, many of them wearing brown cloaks and pants. But every now and then, a member of the Imperial Guard donning a spotless white uniform stood out from the sea of brown around them.

"We're going to that town," Cassandra said in a hushed tone, pointing at a town some distance away from the main gate. "We're less likely to be spotted there."

The others nodded and continued following their captain. They passed by dead and living crop fields, swamps of varying sizes, lakes and ponds, rivers and streams; it all seemed endless. People didn't openly stare at them, but they didn't completely avert their eyes either. Cassandra was wearing her customary outfit, save for the fact that she had swapped her bring orange shirt for a darker green shirt. Alexander had thrown on a pale brown polo shirt underneath his dress coat and was completely ignoring the people staring at him. Insisting that he needed room to maneuver if he had to, Damien was clad in a great midnight blue cape and his usual black pants underneath. The pirates wore their customary black gloves, though they mostly kept their gloved hands in a pocket or behind the cover of a cloak. Just in case.

After trudging through sand, dust, dirt, and mud, they finally reached the town that Cassandra had pointed at. Cassandra waved Alexander and Damien off towards the market while she headed to a small, windowless building at the edge of town. She knocked two times in quick succession on the door, followed by three more drawn out knocks. A window in the door slid open and a grass green eye looked out at her.

"_How many knocks does death make?_" a voice rasped out, speaking a language known almost exclusively by Cassandra's family.

"_The warrior knocks twice, the pacifist knocks thrice, but we never knock at all,_" Cassandra replied, staring evenly at the eye while holding up her gloved hand.

The door swung open and an old man held out his skinny arm, gesturing for her to come in. Quickly shutting the door behind them, he hobbled into the dim candlelight. His eyes were mismatched: one green one and one as white as marble. He grinned with a mouth with too few teeth and scratched his iron-grey hair. "_It's good to see you again, young one,_" he rasped.

"_And the same to you, Glenard,_" she replied, frustrated with her father. She had expected the Black Glove representative to be a nameless underling, not her great-uncle. Apparently, her father knew her far better than she thought he did. "Why do I have to come here, though?"

"_Daughters are supposed to visit their fathers,_" a voice drawled out from the depths of the house. The sheer frigidity of the tone was enough to frighten even the bravest soul, though Cassandra had grown up hearing that voice every day and had eventually gotten used to it. However, at the moment, the pirate captain felt her temper begin to boil and strove to keep it in check. A tall man stepped out of the shadows, the candlelight casting stark shadows across his face. His close-cut dark blue hair receded from his pale forehead in a widow's peak, making his appearance even more sinister. His ice blue eyes bored into her own, glimmers of unimaginable power lurking deep within them.

"_Father_," Cassandra said icily. "_Why are you here?_"

"_I am here because you are here,_" he said lightly. "_What kind of father would I be if I didn't check up on my teenage daughter once in a while?_"

"You would be acting like you always have," Cassandra snapped, resuming her normal speech. "Completely ignorant of my feelings and indifferent to my well-being."

"Feelings and well-being, even for family, are not an assassin's concern," Eirwyn said softly, causing Cassandra to tense. "Or have you already forgotten?"

"Eirwyn of the Black Glove, it that really you?" Glenard rasped joyfully, dying to break the tension. "It has been too long, too long, my son."

The tall assassin looked at him, his face remaining as placid as ever. "It is good to see you, Uncle Glenard."

"Enough with the formalities, Father," Cassandra said impatiently. "Tell me why you yourself are here instead of some worthless minion!"

"That was rather rude," Eirwyn commented, his eyes staring into her own. "Leaders should rub off on their underlings, not the other way around."

"And what would you know of my _underlings_?" Cassandra spat this last word like it was profane.

Eirwyn sat in a nearby chair and steepled his fingers, staring intently at his daughter. "More than you would think. Between the records kept by the nuns of Alamentia and the files from the West Blue Marine Headquarters, I knew your crew as well as you do."

"Records kept by ancient biased crones and destroyed files?" Cassandra scoffed, sitting on the floor. She noticed Glenard silently sit down as well. "That is the basis on which you claim to know my crew?"

"On the contrary. The nuns know Lyn Mojigata's mind inside and out. And the Marine Headquarters for West Blue are quite safe on a different island, one that hadn't been razed to the ground."

Cassandra made a noise of disbelief. "Well, if you knew my crewmates as well as you claim to, you'd know you could never take one of them down without them causing a ruckus."

"Oh really?" Eirwyn said. "Which one would cause the ruckus? Your first mate? This one was the most challenging. Sneaking up on her completely undetected and knock her out before she could remove her soul is a challenge, but not impossible. Your navigator? A simple blade of nevermeltice and he's too overcome with pain to do anything. Your musician? Seastone. Enough said."

Cassandra gritted her teeth and slowly reached for her pistols. "I'll thank you to stay out of my business."

"I am your father, Cassandra," he said, a ghost of a smile coming to his lips. "It is my duty to be in your business. Fear not, your crewmembers have not been harmed. I am merely pointing out some weaknesses they happen to have. As do you." His eyes hardened as he saw her reaching for her guns. "Don't even think about it."

Cassandra nearly groaned in frustration. "Is there anything else you would like to tell me, Father?" she asked. "Or do you wish to continue verbally torturing me?"

Eirwyn gave a small sigh. "Due to your apparent disregard to your family-"

"Disregard to my family?" she shouted, shooting to her feet. "Have you seen my flag? The name of my crew? What each crewmember wears without knowing its significance?"

"I have, but you have strayed too far in terms of freedom," Eirwyn said, his eyes hardening further. "It is time that you are reigned in. You are to be married to Sir Wesley Nobleman, of the Kingsguard Pirates. Surely, as a fellow pirate-"

"You're marrying me to that promiscuous buffoon?" Cassandra yelled indignantly before rattling off a particularly vicious stream of comments involving foolish fathers and licentious airheads. After a few seconds, she gathered herself enough to ask another question. "And what of his crew of prostitutes and pimps?"

"He has fortunately abandoned most of his promiscuous followers and now commands a respectable band of pirates," Eirwyn responded easily. "His more prominent crewmembers are Cyanna Spearlady, Norah Stonefist, Aldamir Firesword, and a man who goes by the alias Shadowclaw."

"You'll know them when you see them," Glenard cut in. Suddenly, the sound of a loud trumpet reached their ears, causing the old assassin to grin. "I think it's time some of us left."

Eirwyn looked up at him. "Yes, I believe so. Say hello to Sir Wesley for me, Cassandra. You have business to attend to."

"Tell Helen that her older sister is happier as a free pirate than she ever was as an assassin's daughter," Cassandra shouted after him as he waved good-bye and vanished into the shadows. This meeting had not gone the way she had planned. Instead of weakening her father's control, she had somehow managed to strengthen it. She vowed that one day, in the distant future, she would settle her disputes with her family once and for all.

"Oh, that reminds me," Glenard said, reminding Cassandra that he hadn't vanished along with his nephew. "I forgot to give you a going-away present."

"Being under the delusion that my father would leave me alone was enough," the pirate captain muttered.

Glenard gave another bark of laughter. "But I felt that you needed something special to commemorate the occasion… delusion."

Sighing, Cassandra reached out and took the package from his hands, absentmindedly ripping the paper away. When she saw the ornate wooden box, however, she froze and stared at it. She cautiously opened the box, gaping in disbelief. "Are these…?"

"Yup," Glenard said proudly. "Your great-grandfather's pistols. My father was a wild one, not unlike you, but one of the best assassins to ever walk the earth."

Cassandra reverently withdrew one of the pistols and stared at it with awe. Judging by the design, it seemed to be based on the common Flintlock pistols, complete with unlimited ammunition and fast re-cocking time. But her great-grandfather had tweaked it slightly. The barrel was a bit longer and wider. The pistol felt almost lighter than air, which was different from her usual pistols. The trigger had been extended with another curve to accommodate two fingers instead of one and looked light enough to fire when the slightest bit of pressure was applied. Further examination of the handle revealed a slot in the base, a curious addition to such a weapon.

"He named them the Susurri," Glenard said in a low voice. "They were so light, he could draw them, shoot as many times as he wanted, and reholster them in the blink of an eye. He built in a silencer, reducing their shots to mere whispers. And, last but not least, the slots at the bottom are for specialized throwing knives, so you can wield the pistols at close quarters like spiked clubs."

Cassandra lifted up the first layer of soft velvet, revealing two brilliantly shining knives. She quickly removed her old throwing knives and tucked them into her boots, placing her great-grandfather's in her shoulder straps. She was trying to figure out what to do with her old pistols when Glenard offered her a bandolier, seeming to have read her mind. Thanking him again, she looped the band around her hips, letting it sag to one side. Hooking her two pistols onto the bandolier, she then placed the Susurri into her old holsters. Casting the box aside, she stood tall and proud, presenting herself to Glenard. "What do you think?"

"Like a veritable one woman army," Glenard said with a gap-toothed grin. "Good luck, young one."

Cassandra grabbed the man in a quick hug, thanking him once more. After waving away her thanks, he followed Eirwyn into the shadows, vanishing from sight. As usual, he had found a way to erase her sour mood. In her mind, it had been he, not her father, who had raised her with care. Her father had merely provided food and lodging, nothing more.

Proudly fiddling with her new pistols, she pushed the door open and strode outside. No sooner had she gone out the door than she was shoved backwards into the house by an angry crowd. A large mob of people carrying shovels, torches, and anything that came to hand were chasing after two figures fleeing into the distance.

"Please tell me those two haven't caused all this," Cassandra groaned. "I really don't want to deal with this this…"

Sure enough, the distinctive form of a lean, flaming man and a stocky, suited man could be seen running away from a massive mob of peasants. Cassandra swore and shouted out, "Why can't they do anything right?"

She watched as the two pirates in question curved around a large pond and came hurtling back towards them. Tapping her foot impatiently, Cassandra waited until they skidded to a halt in front of her. Eyeing the madly grinning pirates, she raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms expectantly. "Well?"

The pair took one look back and started running again. Frustrated, Cassandra growled and chased after them. "Explain yourselves!"

"You know," Alexander said between gasps of breath. "It's a funny story…"

\\'/.\\'/.\Not too long ago\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra waved Alexander and Damien off towards the market while she headed to a small building at the edge of town. The two of them looked around, quickly locating the local market. They started browsing among the vendors, looking for the items Cassandra had requested. While searching for apples not covered in dark bruises at a produce vendor, Alexander happened to overhear a conversation occurring behind the mound of fruit.

"See that, Freddy?"

"I do indeed. Looks like that white-hatted bitch is back in town. You remember, the one who's good with guns?"

"Aye. She's wanted, isn't she?"

"Nah, but she don't look too tough."

"Mebbe we can have some fun with her, eh?"

Alexander felt the urge to stand up for his captain, but after risking a peek around the market stand and catching sight of some of the biggest men he had ever seen, he swiftly retreated, seeking out his fight-loving friend. He searched high and low, wondering how on earth Damien could keep a low profile. The man had an abysmally short temper, after all.

He eventually found the aforesaid navigator arguing with a merchant over the price of a large map. The merchant was red in the face, bellowing at the bigger pirate with gusto. Damien was yelling furiously back, his flaming fist held up for the merchant to see. Quickly leaping in before things could get out of hand, Alexander managed to pry the navigator away from his argument. "Mate, we have bigger problems than some pieces of crumpled paper."

"Th' fuck you talkin' about?" Damien grunted, extinguishing the flames from his fist.

"I heard some brutes badmouthing Captain," Alexander told him. "Something about 'having fun with her'."

Damien stared blankly at the musician. "So? Cap'n's a big girl. She can take care of 'er own damn self."

"These men were huge, mate," Alexander shouted, trying a different tactic. "Almost as big as Madaxe!"

Blank stare. "So?"

Alexander sensed that he was making little progress. "Aren't you up for a fight?"

The navigator thought about this for a second. "Later. Righ' now, I'm fuckin' 'ungry and there's grub over there." After tucking the map into his pants and flipping the merchant the finger when he demanded money, Damien stumped off towards a butcher, who was busily hacking apart a particularly large cow.

_Well, that was unexpected_, Alexander mused. _I guess I'll have to stand up to them myself_… Shocked that he was even considering such an act, he summoned up his courage and strolled over to the hulking men, nervously adjusting his tie along the way. The men stared down at him as he approached, confusion stamped across their faces.

Briefly closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, he opened his mouth to speak. "Greetings, my good men."

"We ain't yore good men," the man in front rumbled. "Now step aside. We have some business to attend to."

"With the woman in the white hat?" Alexander asked.

"So you know her? Come with us, we'll split the bounty with you." Freddy winked obviously at his thugs, who gave lecherous grins.

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "I didn't quite catch that. What were you saying?"

"I was sayin', we'd let you have some-"

_Thwack!_ The men gasped as Alexander jumped up and struck the leader across the face with his trumpet, leaving the beginnings of a bruise behind. "I'll thank you not to talk about my captain that way. She is a wise and magnificent leader, not some downtrodden tramp. Anything else?"

"Why you insolent little-"

_Thwack!_ Freddy now had a matching bruise on the other cheek. "Anything that involves running away would be smart," Alexander replied.

Freddy lunged forward with a roar of rage. Alexander neatly sidestepped, praying that Damien would come in some time soon.

When an entire wagon fell onto the man, the musician let out a relieved grin. "About time, Hothead."

"Ah tol' 'oo, ah wazh 'ungrah," Damien managed to grunt around a mouthful of meat.

"Whatever you say, my friend," Alexander sighed, pointing at the other men. "Feel free to go after them."

Damien vigorously shook his head, dreadlocks flying through the air. "Ah'm shirshty."

The musician gaped in amazement as the unpredictable navigator wandered off in search for something to drink. _You have _got_ to be kidding me…_

"Your friend…" one of the men growled. "He's aimin' for a beatin'… after you, of course."

"Fantastic," Alexander muttered as the men lumbered towards him. "Damn it, Damien. Of all the times to ignore a fight…"

The largest man leapt forward, his arms held out challengingly. Alexander sighed and sidestepped again, watching as the man completely missed and fell to the ground. _These men are pathetic, even by my standards_… he thought as he knelt down, putting his hand on the man's trousers. "Acier Magie."

The thug tried to leap up, but swiftly realized that his pants were solid metal, forcing him to flounder about on the ground. Damien, who had just reappeared, collapsed in laughter, causing a great many villagers to look at them. The remaining men all leapt forward simultaneously, hoping to catch Alexander by surprise. He stayed where he was, twisting and avoiding some of the uncoordinated fists directed at him.

"Verre Magie!" he cried, clutching a man's arm while swinging his trumpet around like a club. The man twisted his body and howled in pain as his skin, which had turned to glass, shattered, cutting the muscles and blood vessels underneath. Alexander continued to weave among the men, occasionally turning something into glass or metal and dealing blows with his trumpet. Unfortunately, he wasn't as nimble as some of his other crewmates and received nearly as many blows as he dealt.

After a short while, all the men were incapacitated in one form or another. Two of the men had had their clothes turned into metal, trapping them into a single position. A few others had suffered a glass arm or face, while others were sporting multiple bruises and cuts. One man had had his pants turned to water and legs turned to metal, causing Damien to laugh all the harder at his embarrassing situation.

Sporting quite a few bruises, partially-broken glasses, and a black eye, Alexander took one last look at them and smiled through a bloody mouth. "It's been fun, you guys. _Trompette Sonnerie!_"

His trumpet blast blew the men over backwards, along with half of the small market, stalls and people included. Still chewing on his hunk of raw meat, Damien looked at Alexander and grinned wolfishly. "Fuckin' 'ell, mate. I couldn' 'ave made a bigger mess meself. I wouldn' 'ave gotten my ass kicked as badly as you did."

"Hey, I'm not as agile as you are," Alexander said defensively. "Why didn't you jump in?"

"You looked like you were 'avin' fun," Damien responded. "An' I was busy hagglin'."

Alexander glanced at the unconscious cartographer, butcher, and drink saleswoman behind the crazed navigator. "Haggling. Right. Anyway, grab what you can and run before they can catch us!" He silently prayed that Damien would actually listen to him this time.

Luckily enough, Damien did.

\\'/.\\'/.\Back to the present\'/.\\'/.\\

"…And that's when we found you," Alexander finished.

"While it was honorable of you to defend your captain, THINK BEFORE YOU ACT!" Cassandra hollered. "Why did you have to attract the attention of the entire town?"

"Hold it right there," a voice rang out commandingly.

Cassandra swore heavily and turned around, gaping in astonishment. Rank upon rank of the white-cloaked guards surrounded them, all leveling their spears at the three pirates. _This is most definitely not good…_ "Yes?"

"Black Glove Cassandra Negras," the man in front called out, freezing the blood in her veins. "You are under arrest."

"How do you know my name?" she asked, not moving a muscle.

The Imperial Guard waved the question aside. "You three are to be captured and tortured for crimes against the crown. At this moment, your ship is surrounded by a naval blockade. Surrender peacefully."

"Crimes agains' th' crown?" Damien roared in outrage. "I beat up chickenshit merchants, not royal fuckin' brats!"

"You will be sentenced upon arrival at the prison," the Imperial Guard continued, giving a curt nod to the man next to him. Half a second later, all three pirates were restrained: Cassandra by a lasso, Alexander by a pair of blue-green handcuffs, and Damien by an entire blue-green chain. Her crew gave cries of surprise, but it was no use. They had been lured into a trap. The head Imperial Guard had distracted them so that a few others could restrain them all at once. A clever move.

* * *

Whoa, they're captured now? When Cassandra wanted an adventure, I don't think this is what she had in mind...


	25. Forced Separation

And now, exactly one year from the publication of the first chapter, here they are, the Black Glove Pirates!

* * *

"A miniature blade…" _Tink_. "Two weighted knives…" _Clack clack_. "A sniper rifle…" _THWUMP_. "Two pistols…" _Thud thud_. "Two more pistols…" Virtually no noise. "Two more knives…" _Clink clink_.

"Want me to strip naked as well?" Cassandra snapped bad-temperedly. To say that she was not in a very good mood would be like saying that Alexander was a mediocre instrumentalist. She had met with her father, been arrested, and lost her great-grandfather's weapons, which she had had in her possession for less than an hour or three. To top it all off, she was covered in mud from a little navigator-caused incident on the way to the prison.

"Mate, when Captain says to stop fighting, she means it," Alexander sighed, also coated in mud.

Damien shrugged indifferently. Around halfway through the trip, he had suddenly tried to free himself, sending the guards leading him flying and knocking Cassandra and Alexander over. It had taken the combined efforts of the pirate captain, the musician, and over a hundred of the Imperial Guard to calm him down. It took another fifteen minutes or so to convince him to actually walk to the prison, for he was far too heavy to be dragged. "Fuckers deserved it. No one should be chained, be they figh'er or scum."

Blocking out her two crewmembers' chatter, Cassandra was ushered through a barred door and down a long hallway. Sunlight filtered in through the barred windows, mocking her with freedom. Her hands and feet were locked in simple iron manacles, severely hindering her movement. She hid her glare under the brim of her hat, keeping a firm hold on her emotions. If she wanted to make an escape, she would have to formulate a plan. To formulate a plan, she would have to keep a cool head.

"Why th' fuck can' I jus' bust us outta 'ere?"

"We are restrained! See this? This is seastone. Nothing in the world can break it, mate, not even you. Just shut up and deal with it."

In a way, she was oddly glad that she was being kept on opposite ends of the prison as her crewmembers. She let herself smirk a little at this absurd thought. Apparently, she still had a ways to go if she was going to be a pirate captain. After all, what kind of captain willingly abandoned her crew? She shook her head as she was led through the massive doorway and into the belly of the prison.

As far as prisons went, this one was fairly hospitable. The mud brown bricks were relatively clean, the sun shone through the countless windows, and the air was cool and dry. There were no rat feces visible, though this didn't necessarily mean that there were no rats. But the lack of cobwebs was noticeable and meant that either the prison had a really good custodial crew or that there were no spiders at all on Spring Isle. Somehow, she believed the former to be the more likely option.

Nevertheless, she was in a prison and it did have its downsides. Every corridor had at least one Imperial Guard watching over it at all times, making the possibility for escape virtually zero. No matter where she turned, there was always a white-cloaked man or woman casually strolling about the prison. The guards looked none too happy to be in the prison, casting dark glances at the prisoners every now and then. Most of the prisoners were casting dark glances at each other, obviously mistrustful of other criminals. The prisoners around her didn't even look all that threatening. They were kept behind simple iron bars in relatively comfortable cells, which was probably why there were so many guards. Iron couldn't always contain a particularly powerful prisoner, after all.

However, all of these drawbacks paled in comparison to her prisoner's identification. She had been allowed to keep all of her clothes, which was better than being thrown into a neon-colored jumpsuit. However, her forehead had been tattooed with the inverted royal emblem, forever branding her as a prisoner. Now, even if she escaped, no matter where she went, she would always be known as having been captured on Spring Isle. She only hoped that Raven was good with tattoo removal. If she could even find the woman after all of this. If she could even escape.

Her musings were cut short as the guards pushed the doors open and a cocktail of unpleasant odors assaulted her nose. Gagging, she turned to the guards and asked, "What is that _stench_?"

Much to her confusion, the guards looked just as disgusted as she did. "This is the cafeteria, but I have never seen that particular kind of food before," the Imperial Guard on her right gasped, pinching his nose between his fingers.

"That slop is edible?" Cassandra asked, eyeing the bubbling blue goop behind the counter.

"No idea," the man said before swiftly exiting the room. The other guard unlocked her shackles and escaped as well, slamming the door shut behind him.

Cassandra sighed and turned back to the rest of the room. Tables and benches were stretched from wall-to-wall and the prisoners were eating as if the blue substance were their last meal. Internally wincing at the poor choice of words, she grudgingly went over to the counter, grabbing a tray and a bowl as she passed. "Give me whatever tastes the best."

The man serving the food grunted, dropping a ladleful of blue into her bowl. Cassandra sighed and went on, taking some utensils and a glass of water. She paused, then took a few more glasses of water, for if the food tasted as bad as it smelled, she would undoubtedly need to wash the taste from her mouth. She meandered over to the nearest table and sat down, dreading the meal to come. Shaking her head, she picked up her spoon and began to dip it in her bowl.

"What do you think you're doing?" a voice came from behind her.

"Trying not to vomit," Cassandra replied without turning around. "And praying that this is at least vaguely nutritional."

She was suddenly jerked around, almost knocking her so-called 'food' to the floor. A large woman, flanked by around five equally large women and men, was glaring down at her. She was a head or so taller than Cassandra was, though easily thrice as wide. The way she cracked her knuckles indicated that she meant business and that Cassandra was her target. "What are you doing at our table?"

From here, there were two options. She could either get up and leave to try to avoid conflict, or she could stand her ground and wind up fighting. She then remembered all of her pent-up aggression and wisely made her decision. "I was about to eat, but now I'm staring up at you."

"All right, smart ass," the woman snarled. "There are two rules and two rules only at Spring Isle Penitentiary: don't try to escape and don't kill any guards. They don't give a rat's ass about fighting between prisoners. Hell, they're happier if we kill each other off. It means less scum they have to deal with. In other words, we can do whatever we want."

"Well, I want you to leave me alone," Cassandra said idly, knowing that her words would have the opposite effect. "Can you do that?"

The woman grabbed her shirt and lifted her into the air, staring furiously at the pirate captain. "Are you trying to get-"

Her statement was cut off as a brightly colored something plowed into her side, forcing her to drop Cassandra. The assailant stood up and dusted off her hands, staring down in satisfaction. "Touch Captain again. I dare you."

"Lyn?" Cassandra gasped, genuinely shocked. "What are you doing here?"

Lyn reached back and placed her hand on Cassandra's forehead, closing her eyes in concentration. Cassandra felt a slight headache coming on and focused on it, hoping that it was Lyn's doing. Indeed, after a second or so, the first mate's memory flashed into her mind's eye, blocking out her normal vision.

_Lyn had just finished putting the finishing touches on her painting and was admiring it proudly when a gently falling slip of paper caught her eye. Easily catching it out of midair, she brought it up to her face and read the neatly-written message aloud. "'Cassandra is in prison. Get yourself arrested and help her.' Huh."_

_She rubbed her chin thoughtfully, smearing blue and yellow all over her skin. There was only one person she knew of who would leave her such a message… The question was: should she get herself arrested? She glanced at her finished painting, then at the carefully-set tripwire, then at the message again. "Okay."_

Cassandra blinked as Lyn withdrew her hand. "That's it? That's why you got arrested?"

"A little faith can go a long way, Captain," Lyn said cheerfully, standing back-to-back with Cassandra. "Now, I believe we have a fight to fight?"

Indeed, the downed woman was pushing herself to her feet, a livid expression stamped on her face. "Us six against you two! This is going to be quick!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

In the lower cafeteria, reserved for more dangerous criminals, it was surprisingly peaceful.

Alexander had walked in with every intention of relaxing on a bench and eating his food. He knew about his captain's intelligence, so he wasn't worried. She would get them out of prison and on their way soon enough. Meanwhile, he just had to cooperate and wait until that time. Yes, he had every intention of enjoying a simple meal.

Unfortunately for him, he had to waste his energy explaining to Damien why provoking the entire cafeteria into attacking him was a bad idea.

Damien had walked in with every intention of calling the prisoners 'ass-fuckin' cocksuckin' fag-bitches'. He loved any sort of physical conflict, especially since he was really good at finishing it quickly and brutally. He hated being captured and was a ticking bomb just begging to be set off. Yes, he had every intention of getting into a fight.

Fortunately for everybody else, he was goaded into simply getting food and standing near a table, for the benches would surely collapse under his weight.

"And what exactly is this supposed to be?" Alexander asked aloud. The alchemist was sitting up straight, wishing that he could turn whatever this 'food' was into something delicious using his Devil Fruit powers. Then he remembered that seastone bracelets still encircled his wrists, thus preventing him from using his alchemy.

"Fuck if I know," Damien responded, idly picking at something stuck underneath a talon. "Maybe if I burn it…"

"Don't," Alexander warned, trying his best not to taste the blue goop. "Remember, they think your flames are Devil Fruit powers. We have a tactical advantage if we only use it when we try to escape."

Damien glanced down at his own bracelets, evidently displeased. "Tactic'l advantage c'n kiss my-"

"Do you mind if I sit here?" a voice interrupted.

"Fuck off," Damien shot back, throwing his head back and pouring the blue glop down his throat.

Alexander sighed and nodded his head. "Don't mind him. My name is Alexander-"

"This stuff don' taste 'alf bad," Damien cut in, crushing the bowl in his fist. "Could use some meat."

Laughing lightly, the prisoner sat down across from Alexander and put his tray on the table. His body was built like Damien's, lean and muscular. He was clad in a sleeveless white fighting robe, exposing his sinewy arms. Somehow, Alexander could detect the unbelievable power surrounding the man. It was as if the bald prisoner could control the very air around him. "I am Apprentice Nikasen. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Damien," the navigator growled. "Ye look strong."

Nikasen gave a small nod. "Thank you, my friend. I have practiced for many years on an island in the Grand Line under the finest master a man could ask for."

"The Grand Line?" Alexander asked in surprise. "What is a man from the Grand Line doing in a prison in West Blue?"

"Part of our training is to see the world past what we have been taught," Nikasen responded. "By experiencing a variety of different situations, such as living in a prison, one can learn to adapt more quickly to others."

Alexander nodded, noting out of the corner of his eye that Damien was wandering towards a large group of dangerous-looking men. "And you're a good fighter?"

Nikasen smiled. "But of course. I trained under Master Mace Silurian, one of the most powerful fighters in the world. His strength far surpasses that of humans and he is nearly impossible to wound. Nobody has been able to knock him down, though countless challengers have appeared."

_Sounds like a perfect person for Damien to meet_. "What do you mean, humans?"

"He is a fishman," Nikasen replied simply, not even flinching as a man flew by his head.

"Is that so? What kind?"

"A fossilfish fishman, he said."

"Fossilfish?" That sounded strange. "What do you mean?"

Nikasen smile diminished slightly. "He did not tell us any more. Why are you so interested?"

Alexander gave a light chuckle, lifting his bowl up as another man slid screaming down the table. "If Damien ever met this fishman of which you speak, even I don't know what would happen. An unstoppable force meeting an immovable object…"

"Damien is a formidable fighter," Nikasen stated, turning to watch the brutal mêlée. "I would hate to confront him."

"I'm curious," Alexander began, finishing off his 'food'. "What do you think makes him such a good fighter?"

"At a glance?" Nikasen stared analytically at the navigator. "He is fully immersed in the fight. I would bet that nothing can distract him, no matter how hard one tried. If it were anybody else, I would say that his form is sloppy and contains a lot of wasted moves. But, unless I am mistaken, he weighs a considerable amount and he uses his momentum to power his following attacks."

"You can tell all of that just by looking at him for a few seconds?" Alexander asked skeptically.

The apprentice shrugged. "One must be able to judge an opponent in a second if one hopes to win the battle."

Alexander opened his mouth to protest, but closed it as he thought of his previous fights. While the other pirates had emerged victorious, he had been the one to end up tying his end of the Pirate's Wager. Jones had misjudged him; of that, he was sure. But he in turn had misjudged Jones. He sighed as he realized the truth in Nikasen's words. "Okay, fine. But he has taken on hundreds of men at once. Why does he not get killed then?"

"You are asking a lot of negative questions about your friend," Nikasen observed. "Why are you so curious about him and his survival?"

Alexander could think of nothing to say to that. How was he supposed to explain that he cared for the berserk man like a brother, but sometimes questioned Damien's sanity; that despite all his reassuring words, he too was uncertain that Damien wouldn't rend him limb from limb when he was beyond reason; that he sometimes wondered how the navigator managed to survive in spite of his grievous wounds, wounds that would have killed any normal man ten times over?

"I'll answer this last one," Nikasen murmured. "Then we'll focus more on you. What you may not realize is that no matter how many enemies there are, only about six unarmed men can hope to attack you at once. With swords, no more than five can attack without the danger of impaling a comrade by mistake."

"I never thought of it that way," Alexander commented, ducking under a heavily bleeding man.

"Now you don't seem like a hand-to-hand fighter," Nikaze said. "A gunner, perhaps?"

"Devil Fruit user," Alexander corrected. "And I can enhance soundwaves that I produce into damaging blasts."

"Impressive! Can you use your voice or the snap of your fingers?"

Alexander shook his head. "Those sounds are not nearly strong enough for my purposes. But what about you? What do you use?"

"I'll show you," Nikasen said, getting up and casually strolling towards the mob of fighters surrounding Damien. He rolled his shoulders and took a calming breath, evidently preparing himself for his demonstration. He bent his knees and let his hands descend to his waist, palms up. Bowing his head slightly, his inhaled deeply and closed his eyes. "Taijiquan…"

He moved so quickly that Alexander almost lost sight of him. He lightly pushed a man out of his way, stood next to Damien, and let loose a flurry of strikes. Men and women flew every which way, colliding with walls, supporting columns, and other prisoners. Damien turned to the apprentice with an angry look in his eye, obviously irritated with having his prey removed. Nikasen brought his hands to his waist once more, exhaling once more. "Bao Zha Pu Bu."

"The fuck was tha'?" Damien growled, clenching his hand into a fist.

"Martial arts," Nikasen answered, relaxing from his stance. "The main difference between our fighting styles."

Alexander's eyes widened and he shook his hands furiously, trying to attract the apprentice's attention. If Nikasen saw the movements, he gave no indication that he did. Damien, fortunately enough, was oblivious. "Aye? You think yer be'er than me?"

"No," Nikasen said thoughtfully. "Your lack of a consistent style makes you hard to predict. Your strength is far superior to mine and I would have a hard time fighting against you."

Damien gave his favorite grin, a carnivore's grin. "That so? Min' if I kick yer ass righ' here, righ' now?"

"Unfortunately, I have to be somewhere else," Nikasen sighed dramatically. He casually strolled towards the door, stepping over an unconscious body here and there. Damien gave a displeased growl, which was abruptly cut off as a beefy hand descended upon his shoulder. He glanced up to see a bruised inmate grinning down at him with a mouth that held far too few teeth.

After watching Damien's fist uncurl and his talons zip from his fingertips, Alexander thought it was time for his own departure. He knew what was going to happen next and didn't feel that it was necessary for him to stick around. Instead, he hustled after Nikasen, hoping to catch the apprentice before he got too far away. He exited the cafeteria and let the doors swing shut behind him, ignoring the sound of something slamming through the doors an instant later.

Much to his irritation, Nikasen walked at a brisk pace that was even faster than Alexander's jogging pace. Huffing and puffing as he ran through the hallways, he strived to catch the quick fighter. Nikasen always seemed to be turning the corner just as Alexander caught sight of him, prompting the musician to go even faster. He tried calling out the man's name, but Nikasen remained oblivious. Eventually, he was forced to slow to a steady walk, panting heavily and tugging at his tie. _Accursed fighters and their never-ending endurance… why couldn't he hear me or at least walk at a normal pace?_

"Where are you going?" a voice asked, startling him slightly.

"I was told to go back to my cell," Alexander responded quickly, staring up into the eyes of an Imperial Guard. "I'm being held next to some punk fighter who thinks he looks tough. You know, bald, ripped his sleeves off, has that air of arrogance about him?"

"I know just the man," the guard muttered. "I don't envy you, though I thought even people like you would have remembered how to get back to your cell from here."

"It's these damn glasses," Alexander sighed, gesturing at his face. "My eyes are getting worse, but I haven't been able to get my glasses adjusted. Everything looks the same: kinda fuzzy."

The guard grunted and gestured with his spear. "Go down the hall, make a left, then take the next two rights and you'll be right where you belong."

Alexander didn't really like the sound of that last part, but he really had no other options at this point. He roughly thanked the man and proceeded down the corridor, pretending to have trouble seeing. After turning the corner, he dropped his façade and relaxed against the wall. He had to admit: it was nerve-wracking telling a lie to a man who could easily kill him without any consequences. He gave a dark chuckle at this, for he had never lied to Damien in his life. That was something he wouldn't dare risk doing.

He continued walking as he was instructed and, sure enough, wound up at an open cell door. Briefly checking to make sure that Nikasen was indeed in the next cell over, he walked inside and admired his surroundings. A simple cot lay against one wall and a toilet and sink against another. A small footlocker was placed underneath the bed, probably for personal belongings. As far as cells went, it looked fairly hospitable.

"Is that you, Alexander?"

The musician gave a small grin. "You didn't think you could leave me behind so easily, did you?"

He could hear a light laugh come from the adjacent cell. "I was not even aware that you were following me."

"Next time, I'll be sure to yell," Alexander shot back. He reclined upon his cot and stared at the ceiling, thinking of what to say next.

"Do they even allow prisoners to pick their own cells?" came the sudden question.

Alexander's grin widened. "So long as I'm inside a cell, I don't think it makes much of a difference to them."

"Hey you!" a voice came from outside his cell, causing him to freeze.

Alexander slowly sat up, staring at the Imperial Guard standing not two meters away from him. He slowly held up his hands, wondering what was going on. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Your cell door isn't closed," the man grunted, gesturing at the barred door. "So close it."

"Of course. I'm sorry." Alexander hastened to close the door, practically stumbling over the corner of the footlocker. But the instant he grabbed ahold of the bars, he felt his energy seep from his limbs. What surprised him was the intense pain that shot through his arms, hurling him back onto his rear as he recoiled in shock. Nursing his aching hands, he stared up at the guard, who was chortling to himself. "What is it?"

"It looks like we've caught another DF user," the guard said. "Well, luckily this cell is made entirely of Type A seastone, artificially manufactured to make sure people like you never even think of using your powers. Now I'd like to just leave you to feel powerless like everybody else does, but it's prison regulations for me to remove those cuffs of yours, so I'm gonna need you to touch the door again."

Alexander eyed the door, not really feeling up to experiencing such pain again. That hesitancy cost him dearly. Obviously not one for being nice towards prisoners, the guard kneed him in the stomach. As the pirate doubled over in pain, the man walked behind him and kicked his backside, sending Alexander crashing face first into the seastone door.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Damien was confused. On one hand, he really detested being chained like some captured beast. On the other hand, he was told that if he cooperated, he would be led to the one hundred nastiest, most cruel, most brutal men on the island. Usually, when he was confused, he soothed himself by destroying something. But the promise of encountering such people was too tempting for him to pass up. So, after dismembering a final prisoner using one of the benches, he was once again wrapped in seastone chains and led into the depths of the prison.

After descending far below sea level, he entered a massive cavern, about the same size as the bastard God/Marine's paradise field back on the Charred Island. The most notable difference was the gigantic pit in the middle of the room, from which came the most interesting of sounds: utter silence. The only noise in the entire room came from the crackling torches lining the circular wall lining the high part of the room. Such silence meant that the men were either sleeping or dead.

"The fuck is goin' on?" Damien grumbled, squirming restlessly in his chains.

The Imperial Guard made no sound, merely gesturing at the pit. A woman at the far end of the room pushed a big red button, closing her eyes and whispering a silent prayer. Loud mechanical sounds issued forth, breaking the brittle silence. Damien glanced around, trying to figure out what was going on. He got his answer soon enough.

The hundred prisoners rose into the light as the floor of the pit grew level with the floor of the room, stopping just short of the enormous stalactites hanging above them. They all stared at Damien with sunken, angry eyes, as if he were the cause of their misery. Feeling something sharp poke him in the back, he began to stump towards them, letting his massive weight shake the chains connecting the prisoners to each other. He stopped just inside the circle that denoted the floor of the pit, idly wondering what would happen next.

As if to answer his question, the nearest guard rushed forward and undid his chains, swiftly locking his legs in with the rest of the prisoners. The floor began to descend once more, sending the prisoners into near-blackness. Damien stared around, feeling the air around him begin to grow more and more hostile. He was not really in a mood to fight. He wanted to know these men, why they were so hated, why they were so feared.

Then, he heard a distant scream. He turned his head to the ceiling, staring upwards intently. He knew the origin of that scream. _Alexander…_

Whatever restraint he had on his need to slaughter evaporated. His head snapped back down and he let his own killing intent emanate from his body. He flicked out all fifteen of his functioning talons and erupted into flame. Fuck tactical advantage. Whatever pain Alexander was experiencing, these men would suffer it ten… no, a hundred times over. "Curse th' day ye were born, ya inbred shit'eads, and wish fer th' quick death ye'll never get! Diavolo Toro!"

* * *

I might be able to get another chapter up relatively quickly, so keep your eyes peeled.


	26. Ethereal Communication

Thus, the next chapter of the Black Glove Pirates and their current struggle for survival in Spring Isle Penitentiary.

* * *

"You alright there, Captain?" Lyn asked cheerfully as she socked her final opponent in the throat and kneed him in the groin, removing him from the cafeteria brawl.

Cassandra grunted in response, more focused on trying to finish off her own enemy. She had tried to shank him with a butter knife, but it hadn't fully penetrated the man's back. Growling, she made as if to attack his eyes, forcing him to recoil slightly. She ducked to the side and swept her foot around, knocking his legs out from underneath him. He let out a cry as he was sent flying onto his back, arms windmilling frantically in the air. He froze as his weight drove the knife through his kidney, paralyzing him with pain. "All done."

The pirate captain glanced about her. Ten people lay on the ground, groaning, unconscious, or dying. Although reinforcements had arrived to back up the other inmates, Lyn and Cassandra had had little trouble in defending themselves. Lyn was surprisingly good at unarmed fighting, using her hand like she would her rapier. Cassandra was not as good at fighting without weapons and had used her dining utensils to take down her opponents.

"Damn, we're good," Lyn commented, stretching her arms above her head.

Cassandra glanced at the first mate, her eyes widening as she saw that Lyn's top had been torn to shreds. She lunged forward and covered the first mate's exposed chest with her body, staring at her exasperatedly. "Why do you keep losing your shirt?"

"Bad luck," Lyn responded dismissively. "Got an escape plan yet?"

"We got here not an hour ago and a good part of it was spent fighting," Cassandra stated, once more shedding her outer shirt and giving it to the grinning woman. "I need more time than that."

Lyn waited a few seconds. "Thought of a plan yet?"

Cassandra lightly flicked her first mate in the forehead, shaking her head in amusement. "I have an idea or two, but I'll definitely need your help."

"Shoot," Lyn stated, placing a dollop of blue 'food' gingerly onto her tongue.

"Remember when you showed me scenes from your life, your memories?" the pirate captain asked. "Can you do that when you remove your spirit?"

Lyn immediately dropped to the floor, curling up into a fetal position. Cassandra patiently waited, assuming that the former nun was testing her abilities. After nothing happened, she frowned and stared down at the woman. "Lyn?"

"Didn't think it would taste that bad…" Lyn muttered as she gradually uncurled. "Sorry, Captain. Wha'd you say?"

Cassandra gritted her teeth and turned her question into an order. "Remove your spirit from your body and see if you can transmit memories to me."

Lyn nodded and promptly fell backwards, safely landing on an unconscious inmate. Just like before, Cassandra waited, idly wondering if Lyn was actually trying this time. Her musings were answered when, out of nowhere, a scene popped into her head.

"_And bless my Captain; may she live a long and successful life. And deliver us some more crewmates, because the more the merrier." The vision rocked and turned around, falling upon the reclining captain. "I'm finished with my prayers, Captain."_

_Cassandra nodded and closed her book, tucking it underneath her bed. "Thank you, Lyn. Now, tonight's watch is going to be split into two. I'll take the first one, so you have to have the second one. Get some rest."_

"_Works for me!" Lyn chirped, looking down as she began pull off her clothes._

_Confused, Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "What exactly are you doing?"_

"_It's so hot in here!" the new first mate announced, discarding her last article of clothing. "Good night, Captain!"_

_She sprawled across her bed and the scene faded to black._

"_My first mate sleeps in the nude," Cassandra muttered to herself as she went farther and farther away. "Note to self: order all male crewmembers to stay away from the women's quarters at night."_

Cassandra blinked as the image popped away in a flash and Lyn opened her eyes once more. "Did it work?"

"Lyn, how did you remember that last sentence?" the pirate captain asked.

"Nobody would go to sleep fast enough to miss that!" Lyn exclaimed. "Well, Damien would, but he needs his rest."

"And why was that scene from a first person perspective while the first scenes you showed me had you inside them?"

"Those scenes were actually transmitted to me from the crones," Lyn said offhandedly. "That last one was from me."

"Thirdly, why did you use that particular scene?"

Lyn pursed her lips cutely as she stared at her captain. "It was my first night as a pirate. It's important to me."

Cassandra nodded and allowed a small smile to cross her face. She turned away and stared contemplatively at the guards. Brute force was completely out of the question, so Damien wouldn't be of much use. Alexander could be useful, for he seemed to have at least some skill in influencing others. After all, he was able to keep Damien in line – she didn't believe that friendship was the sole reason that the sadistic navigator hadn't killed Alexander yet. And Lyn's memory transmission…

"Lyn, what do you think would be the best way to mess with a guard's mind?"

Lyn cocked her head to the side, than gave a mischievous grin. "Well, men can't seem to resist temptations of the flesh…"

Cassandra stared at her for a moment. "You are the most bizarre nun I have ever met. The second best way."

"No clue," Lyn stated, scratching at her eyebrow. "Maybe something about teasing them?"

"Never mind," Cassandra sighed. "Finish up; we're leaving."

Lyn nodded and, grabbing her spoon, walked up to a nearby inmate. She placed the utensil in the man's bowl and slammed the handle, sending a blob of blue into another man's head. When an enraged glare was sent in her direction, she gave her best innocent smile and pointed at the first man. After the two began furiously duking it out, she casually strolled back to Cassandra with a broad smile on her face. "Let's go."

"How about you help me out for a change," Cassandra hissed, irritated at the woman's willingness to start such a scuffle. "Quickly find out where our crew is."

After a brief blank stare, Lyn nodded and closed her eyes. Cassandra quickly threw the first mate's arm onto her shoulders as the woman became limp, really wishing that Lyn would remember that her body collapsed when her spirit left it. Cassandra made a mental note to remind her as they both sat down heavily on a nearby bench. _How am I going to use my brains, Lyn's abilities, Damien's strength, and Alexander's all-around-usefulness to facilitate our escape? If only Raven hadn't left…_

She was snapped from her reverie for two reasons: she had just been struck with an idea and Lyn had begun using blue goop to decorate her face. "What are you doing?" she shouted, shooting to her feet.

Lyn tumbled to the ground, laughing loudly. "Cafeterias are on floor one, non-threatening criminals on floor two, physically but not mentally dangerous on floor three, and completely dangerous on the basement level."

"How did you find out so quickly?" Cassandra asked in astonishment as she cleaned off her face.

"There's a list on the stairwell about five meters thataway," Lyn stated, pointing off to her left. "Why would the prisoners get separated that way?"

"Not our problem," Cassandra stated. "It's pretty obvious where our crewmates are, so all we need to do is escape. Now, can you actually go and scope out the prison, see if there's anything interesting or noteworthy." She paused. "Anything that _I_ would find interesting or noteworthy."

"Aye aye, Captain," Lyn said, standing at attention. Her eyes fluttered closed and she fell straight backwards into Cassandra's waiting arms.

The pirate captain sighed as she hoisted the former nun into a bridal position and walked over to the Imperial Guard positioned near the doorway, clearing her throat to gain his attention. "Excuse me, sir. Do you think you could escort us to our cell? My friend here stayed up a bit too late last night and seems to have fallen asleep."

"Who do you think you are, Head of the Imperial Guard?" the man shot back. "You can't just order me about."

Cassandra sighed loudly, deciding to try another tactic. "I am Captain Black Glove Cassandra, one of the most wanted pirates in this archipelago and quite possibly in West Blue. Either get me and my crewmate to our cell, a request most guards would be more than happy to accommodate, or I'll start a riot so uncontrollable you'd have to mobilize the entire military force on this island to even try to contain it."

The guard worked to keep his face straight. "Right this way, Black Glove."

Giving a curt nod, she began following him own the hallway, eyes flitting from side to side, scanning, memorizing. She wanted to learn everything she could without drawing too much attention to herself by asking the guard. Her training as an assassin enabled her to do so with ease, for she had done it countless times before. This would not be her first time thinking of an exit strategy, though it would be her first thinking of a way for multiple people to get out at once.

She felt the first mate begin to rustle in her arms and quickly began whispering into her ear. "Lyn, before you get to comfortable, I want you to do one last thing for me. After this, I'll give you anything you want. Deliver this message to Alexander…"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Knight to e4."

Alexander moved the piece accordingly, staring at the grid he had melted into the floor. It had been his idea for the two prisoners to make a chess set in each of their cells and play each other. He trusted the apprentice not to cheat, feeling that the fighter would never stoop so low to win a game only purpose of which was to pass the time. He didn't know how Nikasen had created a chess set in his respective cell, but he was glad that he could do something to take his mind off his aching face.

After staring at the board for a while longer, Alexander made his counterattack. "Bishop to f6."

He waited patiently for Nikasen to make his move, analyzing the makeshift board. He knew the apprentice would see through his obvious trap and not take the bait, but could he counter the next series of moves? He closed his eyes and breathed in, rubbing his forehead gingerly. _I really hate prison guards_…

"Knight to f6."

Alexander mechanically moved the metal knight onto his stone bishop and moved his own rook forwards, almost announcing his move to his opponent prematurely. He halted himself before he did so, staring at the piece in confusion. Either Nikasen had some genius trick up his sleeve or he had made a grievous mistake. Alexander refused to believe that the man was just plain stupid. Scanning the entire board to make sure he wasn't missing anything, he slowly moved a different piece across the floor. "Queen to g2, checkmate."

He only had to wait for a few seconds before he heard Nikasen's light chuckle. "I walked right into that one, didn't I."

"Unfortunately," Alexander said, leaning back against his cot. "It was a good match, mate."

"There is nowhere I can move," Nikasen commented. "Very well played. How did you get so good?"

"As you may have noticed, I'm not exactly the most athletic man around," Alexander sighed, setting the pieces back up. "When I was back in my homeland, I played mental games more than physical ones, games ranging from go and chess to bridge and poker. Even after the Marines torched the island, I played with the few people who escaped the fires and slaughter."

Nikasen laughed again. "And that is why your friendship with Damien is so strange, yet so sensible. On one hand, you two have practically nothing in common. On the other, you cover each other's weaknesses and form a cohesive unit. I would hate to-"

Whatever Nikasen would hate to do, Alexander missed completely. His head suddenly felt like it would split in two. He cried out in pain and curled himself up against the wall, wondering what was going on. He was sure he hadn't come into contact with the cell bars; since his unpleasant experience with the seastone, he had made sure to stay at the far end of his cell at all times. Trying to keep himself from panicking, he took a few calming breaths. His vision suddenly blurred and darkened as a strange scene flashed across his eyes.

_Cassandra's face was uncomfortably close to his, which was strange. What was even more strange was the odd upward angle he seemed to be looking at her from. He was to ask her what was going on when she began to whisper to him, barely moving her lips. "Alexander, if you can see this, then Lyn is transmitting this memory to you. Listen to me and listen to me good, because Lyn's only doing this once. I want you to try to escape your cell without attracting too much attention to yourself. If you can't do that, then at make the guards unsure of themselves. They must begin to wonder if they are truly safe on the other side of those bars. _

"_Once you get the chance, free yourself and make cuffs that only look like seastone. After that, cause havoc in as many ways that you can without directly giving yourself away. Make the floor slippery, the rocks crumble, the torches go out, anything to make them afraid of the area. Then, when the guards come rushing by in response to some chaos down below, slip out of your cell, ambush the final one, and follow them down. Free any prisoners that might help add to the confusion and, while they are all distracted, we can all escape._

"_Remember this one thing: do not, under any circumstances, attempt to fight an Imperial Guard by yourself. Take one by surprise, but do not outright fight them. These men are the crème de la crème, the top point one percent of the fighters in West Blue. The king specifically sends out for them based on their skill and loyalty. If you try to confront one, you will be taken down most quickly."_

"_And try not to-" Lyn's ambient voice came. _

"_Lyn, shush," Cassandra said. "Now you're going to deliver this next message to Da-"_

Alexander sucked in a breath of air as if resurfacing from a deep body of water. He panted as he clambered to his feet, putting one hand to his heaving chest and loosening his tie with the other. Of all the ways to be informed of a plan, that was one he had not been expecting. He had had no idea that Lyn could do such a thing. He leaned back against the wall, his breath slowly returning to normal.

"Alexander? Are you okay?" Nikasen's voice came from through the wall.

"I'm fine," Alexander assured him. "I was just… recalling an interesting memory."

"It must have been some memory for you not to hear what I said," Nikasen said lightly.

Alexander shook his head at himself. "You have no idea."

"Should I leave you to your thoughts for a while?" the apprentice asked.

"Please…" Alexander stared around, thinking about how he would escape. He needed some way of getting a key without being too obvious about it. He stared at the bed, the sink, and the toilet, wondering what he was supposed to do. His captain had mentioned fake seastone cuffs. She couldn't have known that it would be impossible to make such things. Even if he could pull off the right color, the guards would be suspicious if he suddenly grew cuffs out of nowhere. So what could he do?

Resolving to figure it out later, he decided to do a few preliminary tests. He first edged over to the door, cautiously extending his elbow. He had to see if the seastone was strong enough to hurt him through his clothing. After clenching his teeth and mentally preparing himself, he leaned forward and rested his elbow on the door.

Nothing happened.

Satisfied with the result, he then walked over to the sink and turned the faucet on, letting water flow into the basin. After a suitable amount was present, he cupped some liquid in his hands and turned it into stone. He hefted the small rock and tossed it at the door, not really knowing what would happen.

The stone melted back into water, splattering across the floor.

He smiled in satisfaction and tried again, this time turning the water into stone, then metal. The metal ball turned into water as well. This meant that seastone merely reverted whatever he transformed back into its original state, regardless of how many transformations it went through. He had feared that it would simply vanish, which would certainly be bad. This way, he might be able to make a key and use it to open the door. But how?

"The screams have stopped," Nikasen observed, startling Alexander from his thoughts. "May the gods pity the souls who made such terrible sounds."

Alexander listened. Indeed, the faint, unearthly screams from below that had been hovering at the edge of his hearing had finally ceased. "And may the devil greet their torturers with open arms."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Ah, fuck," Damien sighed contentedly. "I need a drink. Oi, lilycloaked shitwits! Got any booze?"

His voice merely echoed around him, fading into silence. The only thing he could hear was the crackling and popping of flames as they licked the mounds of corpses surrounding him. The stench of burning blood and viscera filled his nostrils, calming him down somewhat. He looked at the brightly-lit area, admiring his handiwork. Not a single prisoner had fully died yet. The walls, floor, and stalactites were covered in blood and gore. Adrenaline and euphoria coursed through his system. Granted, he had been stabbed in the side with something sharp and hurt like a bitch, someone had tried to strangle him with their manacles, and he had received more than a few kicks to the groin, which had allowed them to get even more shots in as he stood there in shock. But overall, he was happy, for he had emerged the victor.

He rolled his tongue around in his mouth, gathering up what little bits of flesh were stuck between his teeth and swallowing them. Yawning widely and scratching the scar along his left arm, he slumped down onto a nearby pile, listening to the cracks and snaps of the bones beneath him. "An' I though' bein' captured would fuckin' suck…"

Resting his head on a nearby rib cage, he was about to fall asleep when a strange-smelling liquid splashed down upon him, rousing him once more. He gave a displeased growl, licking his hand to see what it was. Tasting some sort of soap, he spat and glared upwards at the cleaner looking fearfully over the edge. "The fuckin' 'ell was tha' for?"

As usual, he received no response. He fell back onto his pile of bodies, watching carefully for any more falling soap. After vaporizing a few more buckets of blood, soap and water with a few well-aimed blasts of fire, he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep again. He was about to nod off when a firm hand gripped his dreadlocks, attracting his attention. Shaking off the offending appendage, he saw that a man was weakly trying to reach his eyes. He gave a bark of laughter, broke the inmate's neck with a brutal punch, and set his dreadlocks aflame, forcing the man to release his hold.

The third time he was kept from sleeping was when he detected a familiar aura that he couldn't quite place. Eyes napping open, he scanned the rim of the pit, trying to figure out who possessed such power. He only saw the usual Imperial Guard and a few cleaners. He couldn't figure out where it came from, but the feeling wouldn't leave. Ignoring it, he turned over and truly fell asleep. The faint moans of the dead and dying were better than any lullaby.

* * *

I have created one strange medley of pirates... The next chapter might take longer than expected to publish, though this is more because of my job than it is writer's block.


	27. Nocturnal Preparation

And, at long last, the 27th installment of the Black Glove Pirates has arrived. Sorry about the delay.  


* * *

"I'm booooooooored…"

A short pause.

"I'm booooooooored…"

A short pause.

"I'm-"

"Lyn, I will gag and bind you if you don't quiet down," Cassandra said tiredly. "It's at least three hours past sundown. Can't you go to sleep?"

The first mate in question shook her head childishly. "I said my prayers, but I can't seem to go to sleep. Tell me a story, Captain."

"No."

"Pweeeeeeeeease?"

"No."

"Caaaaaaaaptaaaaaain…" Lyn whined.

Cassandra gritted her teeth. "There once was a poor pirate captain who made the gigantic mistake of taking a rebel nun as her first mate. She was driven insane and hung herself with her own belt. The end."

Lyn threw a pillow at her. "Tell me a real story."

"I will seriously tie you up," growled Cassandra.

"If you can," Lyn taunted, a cheeky smile spread across her face.

Unfortunately, the first mate had a valid point. She was stronger and more agile than her captain and attempting to restrain her would take time and energy that Cassandra didn't want to waste. So, sighing in resignation, Cassandra rolled over and faced the ceiling. "There once was a-"

"Once upon a time," Lyn insisted. "Good stories begin with 'once upon a time'."

"Okay, Lyn. Once upon a time," Cassandra amended. "In a land far, far away, seven girls were born within a month of each other. The first was born during the waning gibbous moon, the second during the third quarter, the third during the waning crescent moon, the fourth during the new moon, the fifth during the waxing crescent moon, the sixth during the first quarter moon, and the seventh during the waxing gibbous moon. The story I'm going to tell you is about the oldest girl.

"She didn't get to play around like regular girls did. Instead, she was put through rigorous training every day. She had to hold her breath underwater for minutes on end, she had to go through strenuous exercises to keep fit and healthy, and meditate until she couldn't take it any more. She was shaping up to be one of the finest athletes that ever walked the earth. She was faster, stronger, and better than most people three times her age.

"Then, when she turned seven, something horrible happened in front of her eyes."

"What was it, Captain?" Lyn asked innocently.

Cassandra glanced over and saw that Lyn's electric blue eyes were not as filled with energy as they had been a minute ago. "Umm… let's just say it was really, really bad. Anyway, she was horrified, but was told that she had to endure it, to feel no response or emotion. She was only seven, but she did her best to do as she was told. At that point, she was given many different choices for her life. She realized that she didn't like seeing and feeling bad things happen right in front of her and chose the path of long detachment.

"From then on, she was trained rigorously in that discipline. She was hard pressed to keep ahead of her sister, who showed natural talent that exceeded her own. But she tried and tried, day and night, pushing herself to the limit. She never gave up, never surrendered, and never backed down from a challenge. Soon, she was good enough to spar with her cousins and even sometimes her uncles and aunts.

"Then, when she was nine, she was sent to a special school and met other people her age. She was really shy and stayed off to the side most of the time. Then, one of the seven girls I told you about before, one with dark green hair, went over and sat down, introducing herself. The shy girl was hesitant, but the green-haired girl was desperate, so the former agreed to be her friend. They quickly became best friends and were almost inseparable.

"They got into all sorts of mischief together. They were both from really important families, but that didn't matter to them. They pulled pranks, played together, studied together, and competed against each other. The pair stuck by each other through thick and thin, never hesitating to help the other girl out if any trouble arose. Life seemed to be going well for them.

"Unfortunately, some of the other children were jealous of the older girl because of her family and decided to play a cruel trick on her. One day, when school let out, they cornered her and began to humiliate her in front of the entire school. They… posted embarrassing pictures of her all over the school."

"But I bet the green-haired girl came to save her, right?" Lyn asked sleepily, hiding a yawn behind her hand.

"Indeed. The green-haired girl tore down all the pictures in a single night. The older girl thanked the green-haired girl and they beat the other children up. Unfortunately, the green-haired girl had a sickness that was passed down in her family and went crazy, sort of like Damien crazy. But the older girl ignored the harsh injuries given to her and calmed the green-haired girl down. They promised that they would never hurt each other ever again and that they would defend the other for as long as they lived.

"Then, the youngest of the seven girls attacked the green-haired girl. The oldest girl, remembering their promise, defended her and was able to subdue the youngest girl. Then, with some really good negotiation, the oldest and the youngest agreed to become allies. And, after a long time, they eventually became friends. The young one and the green-haired one never liked each other, but the older one was the bridge between the two and she refused to lose either friendship.

"When they were seventeen, they graduated and were sent out into the world. They were all given jobs, which they completed with flying colors. Life was good for a while. They got to travel the world, meet different people, see different things. Sure, they were working most of the time, but they enjoyed their time off, even though their parents disapproved. Then, the oldest one was given a task that would… hinder the youngest one. Because of a series of unfortunate events, there was some bad blood between their two families and the parents wanted to use their daughters to solve the dispute. But the oldest refused to do it, simple as that. When the critical moment came and she could have completed her job, she alerted the younger girl, who escaped. Her employer wasn't pleased and she was fired. So she had to look for work somewhere else."

"Where is she now… Captain?" Lyn murmured, her eyes closed and her voice soft.

Cassandra gave a small smile. "Who knows? Some say she's unemployed. Others say she was forgiven and hired again."

Lyn gave a quiet mumble of a response. Cassandra got off of her cot and walked over putting her mouth next to the sleeping woman's ear. "Good night, Lyn."

"G'night…" Lyn breathed softly.

Smile growing wider, she took her white cowboy hat off and placed it gently on Lyn's head. Cassandra took off her glove and stared at the ring on her middle finger, deciding whether to leave it on or not. After some musing, she took it off and pocketed it, replacing her glove afterwards. She nodded in satisfaction and waked back to her cot, lying down on the firm mattress. She didn't think she was a bad storyteller, all modesty aside. She could write a book or something. All it took was the incessant prompting of a dear first mate. "As for me, I think she found a different job, one she liked a whole ton better."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"What are you doing?"

Alexander closed his eyes and willed himself not to make a costly mistake in his ceremony. He had just crossed himself and recited the initiating prayer and was in the middle of tracing an ornate diagram on the ground with flour. He could not make a mistake now. Looking up, he saw that an Imperial Guard was leaning against the bars with a slightly bored look on his face. Sighing loudly, Alexander made sure to keep his finger perfectly still as he addressed the curious guard. "Not trying to escape, if that's what you're wondering."

"You didn't answer my question," the guard commented.

"Are you a religious man?" Alexander asked, tipping a bit more flour onto the floor and moving his finger through it to continue his design.

The Imperial Guard frowned. "Yes. And where did you get that?"

"Think of this as my nightly prayer," Alexander told him. "And this is from my jacket pocket. When I was searched, I convinced the man that it was part of my religion."

The guard grunted, unconvinced. "What is it?"

"Flour," Alexander said with a shrug. He finished his design and straightened up into a kneeling position. "Which way is east?

"Shouldn't you know that?" the guard asked as he pointed off to his left.

"I usually have a human compass with me," Alexander replied as he faced that direction and poured some flour onto his palm. He gave a light _puff_, sending a white cloud against the wall. He rotated himself and blew again, this time sending some flour west. He repeated his action with north and south as well, blowing the remaining flour off of his hand. Bowing his head, he put his hand to his forehead and swiftly crossed himself.

"Looks like a bunch of rubbish to me," the Imperial Guard muttered.

Alexander clenched his fist, doing his best to stay calm. "Do not insult my religion, infidel. Let me continue my ceremony in peace."

"Fine," the guard said, showing a degree of civility that Alexander didn't expect the man to have.

"Thank you," Alexander muttered as he made the sign of the cross over his tracing. He closed his eyes and concentrated, summoning the power necessary to do what he had to do. "By the powers vested in me by the divine spirits…"

He continued on with his ceremony for the better part of an hour, chanting names, reciting prayers, sprinkling water on the ground when necessary, and countless other little details without which his prayer would be for naught. At the end, he heaved a deep breath and leaned back, smiling lightly to himself. The air around him fairly thrummed with energy, which immediately caused the guard to stare at him. "What was that?"

"I am a priest," Alexander said simply. "I merely said my nightly prayers."

The Imperial Guard gave a low grunt, unconvinced. This showed the man's intelligence, for Alexander had not told him the entire truth. If he had said that he was summoning the spirits so as to fuel any sound-based attacks he might need in the future, suspicions would be raised and it would mean trouble for him.

The pair was distracted from their staring contest when another guard walked by, sighing loudly. "Hold the fort up here," the second guard said. "I'm needed down below."

"How far down?" the first guard asked. His eyebrows shot up as the second man held up three fingers. "Why do you need to go down there?"

"Well, some poor bastard's about to be executed. The king is pissed that he lost all of his amusement."

"What do you mean, 'all of his amusement'?" the first guard inquired. "We had over a hundred prisoners down there, last time I checked."

The second gave a wry chuckle as he wandered off down the stairwell. "Yeah, last time you checked."

Alexander stared after the man, thinking furiously. Was it at all possible that Damien was the one being executed? No, that was ridiculous. He was in prison, bound by seastone, and locked in the dungeons. What could he possibly have done to provoke the king? With this comforting thought in mind, Alexander turned back to the Imperial Guard. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to go to sleep," the guard snapped, spinning about to face him. "It's going to be a long day for you tomorrow."

Alexander was less concerned with the man's words and more concerned with what was attached to his belt. As he had twirled around, his white cape had fluttered away from his body and a single key could be seen dangling in front of the imprisoned pirate. He had to think of a way to get that key and fast.

Just as the guard turned to walk away, he stepped around his flour tracing and placed his fingertips on the floor beside the door. He wasn't entirely sure about how seastone would interfere with this next maneuver, but he prayed that it wouldn't restrict his actions. "Eau Magie…"

The very surface of the floorstones turned into a thin film of water. He focused his powers outside of his cell, hoping that the stone would transform there as well. Sure enough, the ground in front of his cell became covered in a fine sheet of water, though there was a suspicious lack of wetness anywhere near the seastone bars of his cell. Then, to add a finishing touch, he blew the flour over to the guard, praying that the spirits wouldn't take it as an insult.

His actions had the desired consequences. The Imperial Guard inhaled the flour and gave a mighty sneeze. This sudden movement combined with the slipperiness of the floor knocked him off his feet and sending him falling to the ground. Alexander reached through the bars and hooked a finger around the belt, letting the thin fabric melt into water across his finger. He knew that touching seastone was a bad idea and was thankful that his sleeves had prevented his powers from being immediately short-circuited. Unfortunately, he didn't transmute the belt quickly enough to prevent him from being jerked forward, slamming into the bars of his cell door. Both of them hit the ground simultaneously, one from having slipped and one from having come in contact with seastone.

Free from its cloth constraints, the key bounced across the floor, landing some distance down the hall.

Although in pain, Alexander had one last task to do before the guard caught on. Moving away from the bars, he placed his fingers on the floor and concentrated, sending his powers into the hallway once more. This time, the key was submerged in a shallow pool of water that came almost halfway up the small metal object. He then quickly turned the water back into stone, solidifying it around the key.

Cursing aloud, the Imperial Guard stared evilly at him. "If that was an escape attempt, it was a poor way of doing it."

Alexander gave his most convincing frown. "I was simply disposing of my flour. It was your own clumsiness that made you fall."

"I'll be watching you," the guard muttered threateningly, standing back up to his full height. He walked over to the key and picked it off the ground, holding it up tauntingly. "Looks like you'll have to try harder next time…"

With that, the Imperial Guard walked down the hallway and turned the corner, vanishing from sight. Alexander exhaled slowly, marveling at his own ingenuity. _Who knew I would be so good at this_…

"It was a good try," came a voice from the cell adjacent to his. "A little more and you could have made it."

"Nikasen, you must look beyond what is put in front of your nose," Alexander said with a grin. After checking to make sure the guard was safely out of sight, he walked over to his sink and poured some water into his cupped hands. Not bothering to turn the water off, he cautiously stuck his hands through the bars, making sure they didn't touch the blue-green substance. Tipping his hands, he poured the water across the floor, watching as it trickled down the hallway.

He couldn't help but smile victoriously as the water perfectly filled the indentation left behind by the key. "Acier Magie."

Reaching carefully through the bars once more, he grabbed hold of the thin sheet of metal and pulled it back towards him. Slowly but surely, the metal pulled free from its stone mold. After several painstaking moments, he managed to grab the actual half-key and withdraw into his cell. "It would look suspicious if his key spontaneously vanished and there is no way I could overcome an Imperial Guard. There is also no way that I would be able to free myself before he realized something was up."

"Creative," Nikasen commended him.

Alexander swiftly created another shallow pool of water on the floor of his cell and placed the half-key in it. He turned the water into a stone mold once more and took out the metal, filling the impression with water once more. He then placed the metal on top of the mold and turned the water into metal, forming a full key. Grinning smugly, he melted off the end and held up his prize: one perfect replica of the Imperial Guard's key.

He could only hope that it was the key to his cell.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Prisoner!"

Damien rolled over, not even wincing as a broken femur jabbed into his cheek.

"Hey, prisoner!"

Grumbling to himself, he held up his right hand and flipped the guards the middle finger, setting his hand aflame so they could clearly see what he was doing.

"Are you awake?"

"Th' fuck d'ya want?" he grumbled. "Ah was sleepin', ya dumb cunt."

"By order of King Lui Juyon," the Imperial Guard stated, standing proudly at the lip of the pit. "You are to be executed at once for killing prisoners that belonged to him."

"What?" Damien roared, snapping fully awake. "I thought killin' was allowed! I fuckin' 'ate liars!"

"We did not lie. You simply are not allowed to kill _everybody_," the guard told him. "The king likes to watch executions when he's feeling blue. You've deprived him of that and will now pay the penalty."

"Cocksuckin' broad," Damien grumbled aloud. "An' how'll I be executed?"

"By guillotine," the guard announced, crossing her arms defiantly.

Damien mulled this over. "Th' fuck is a guh-yuh-teen?"

The Imperial Guard looked only too happy to tell him. "Your head will be placed on a block and a massive blade will fall, slicing your neck cleanly in two."

Slight pause. "How the fuck is tha' diff'rent from a be'eadin'?"

"Beheading was messy and the executioner sometimes botched the job," another guard called down. "Plus, with a guillotine, the cut is so clean that the head remains alive for a few moments. It is the king's personal pleasure to talk to these heads. People are willing to give up so much information when they have nothing more to lose."

Damien mulled this over as well. "Okay."

The guards were taken aback. Most prisoners weren't so willing to give up and die. Then again, most prisoners didn't slaughter everybody in their near vicinity for no apparent reason. Shrugging, the Imperial Guard who had announced the verdict waved her hand, signaling another to press a button at the far end of the room. Slowly but surely, the floor of the pit began to rise, bringing its gruesome load up to the top. After several tense minutes, the floors finally drew level with each other. The Imperial Guard hesitantly stepped forward, holding a key in her slightly trembling hands.

"Ain' gonna hurtcha," Damien rumbled. He added his version of a reassuring smile. The guard felt like a baby rabbit staring into the jaws of a maddened wolf.

In spite of this, the Imperial Guard slowly unhooked the psychotic navigator from the hundred corpses surrounding them and held her hand out toward the far wall. "Th-this way, if you please."

Damien watched, unimpressed, as a hidden door crept open, revealing the nearly spotless cement room beyond. He lumbered through the doorway as best he could, considering his wrists and ankles were still connected by restricting seastone chains. Entering the almost empty room, he gazed at his new surroundings.

"This is fuckin' gay," he muttered to himself. The tops of the walls were covered in reflective glass. The middle of the floor was covered in a red carpet, on which was the stupid-looking execution device. Judging by the lack of people in the room and the sound of the door closing behind him, he was supposed to put his own head on the block. If he weren't so curious, he would have laughed and refused to comply.

"Please place your head on the block in the indicated position," an ambient voice told him.

"Fuck you," he shouted back, instinctively resisting orders. "I'll take this 'unk o' wood an' shove it up yer royal ass!"

"Please place your head on the block in the indicated position," the voice repeated.

"Blow me!"

"Please place your head on the block in the indicated position."

Damien gave a loud snarl, but walked up to the guillotine and knelt down. "Fuckin' brats…"

"Your swift and painless execution will occur in three… two… one…"

Released by some hidden hand, the massive slanted blade flashed down. Blood flew through the air, falling to the crimson carpet below.

* * *

Even in my opinion, this crew is just strange...


	28. Unexpected Congregation

Here is the twenty eighth or so chapter of the Black Glove Pirates. To summarize: Cassandra and Lyn are in their cell, one waiting and one sleeping, Damien has just put his head on the block, and Alexander has just created a key for something that may or may not be his cell.

* * *

Damien was pleased. While the guillotine had hurt like a motherfucker and had made a nasty cut along the back of his neck, he was otherwise unharmed. Why he had willingly put himself on the block was a mystery to everybody, including himself. But he had experienced what most people would do anything to avoid and he didn't feel any of the emotions that supposedly went along with it. It might have been because of his knowledge that he wouldn't die, but he didn't care. Damien wasn't one for introspection. He probably didn't even know what the word meant. He had heard Alexander use it a few times, so it probably something to do with music.

So, instead of thinking about why he had done it, he merely set about freeing himself. Bucking his head hard enough to send the weighty blade back up, he slid out of the execution device and stood up tall, feeling the blood from his wound soak into his dreadlocks. He gave a savage grin, listening to the shouting coming from behind the glass windows and rock door. He had no clue how he was supposed to free himself, but he didn't really care. He would be freed.

His grin widened as guards began pouring into the room, all yelling loudly and brandishing weapons. "Yahahar! 'Undreds o' you fuckin' pussies an' me bound an' wounded! 'Twill be a fair figh'!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Alexander was shaken from his sleep by what sounded like an elephant stampede during an earthquake. He fell to the floor in a most undignified manner, somehow ending up with his feet above his head. Grumbling darkly as he righted himself, he rubbed his aching head and stared through his seastone bars. "What is going on?"

As expected, he received no response from the guards rushing by his cell door. He carefully leaned on the bars, ensuring that a couple layers of fabric rested between his skin and the substance, and gazed in the direction where the guards were coming from. It took almost a full minute, but eventually the gaggle thinned out. He carefully withdrew the metal key from his jacket pocket, holding it gingerly between his fingers. He tapped it lightly against the bars, reverting it back into stone. He prayed that the rock was strong enough to hold up against the door lock as he inserted it into the hole. Closing her eyes and holding his breath, he slowly twisted it around.

A light _click_ sounded out.

He allowed himself a small smirk as he pushed the door with a dark shoe. He strode into the hallway, savoring his first breath of freedom. The dim moonlight reflected in his glasses and shone off of the buttons on his rumpled suit. He exhaled and adjusted his tie, pleased with himself. _And Raven wondered what use I was for the crew_…

"Halt!" cried a voice from his left. "Get back in your cell!"

Alexander started as he saw a delayed Imperial Guard stop a few cells down he hallway. His joy rapidly vanished when he saw the spear pointed directly at his heart. He froze, trying to figure out what to do. The other prisoners had started paying attention and were clamoring to be released as well. He didn't know what to do; he couldn't think. He remembered his captain's warning that he wouldn't stand a chance. Merely by staring at the Imperial Guard, he knew that she was right.

The guard, not taking any changes, made a swift jab in his direction. He barely dodged to the side, feeling the spearhead rip through his suit and graze his skin. _Too close_…

"Alexander!" he heard from behind him. "Free me and I will aid you!"

The musician trusted Nikasen, but the guard showed no signs of letting him release the other prisoner. He lunged for the key still stuck in the door, but his opponent was faster. She swung her spear in a sharp downward slash, breaking the key in half. "End of the line, pirate!"

"Eau Magie!" Alexander cried out, deciding to try to make another key. He slammed his hand into the floor, dissolving the stones completely. The woman let out a yelp of surprise as she fell to the floor below in a gush of water. He quickly cupped some of the water in his hand and ran back into his cell, pouring it into the impression he had made earlier. He turned the water into metal and picked up the makeshift key, rushing outside once more.

He stiffened as he felt the spear prick his throat, a soaking wet guard holding the other end. "You can't free anybody, scum. You'll receive no help from them!"

Alexander was suddenly struck with another idea. "You are correct: not from them! Eau Magie!"

The spear dissolved into crystal clear liquid and dropped limply to the floor. He retreated slightly and watched her reaction. The Imperial Guard was shocked for less than a second, apparently accustomed to rapidly-changing battle situations. She leapt forward and dealt a sharp kick to his cheek, shaking his head like maracas. The dazed musician would have tumbled to the ground had his stomach not come into contact with something quite hard and unforgiving: her knee. The wind was knocked from his lungs and he let out a pained gasp, praying that she would let up for a split second.

She didn't. The next attack came in the form of getting his feet swept out from under him and a solid kick to his side, sending him tumbling down the hallway. He felt his glasses bend, but not shatter, as he bounced along the rough floorstones. His roll was cut short as he collided with the Imperial Guard's boot. She roughly grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him into the air, slamming him against a nearby cell door. He let out a shrill cry of pain as he came into contact with the seastone bars. The brutal blows had already robbed him of the ability to breathe properly; the seastone made him feel like he was suffocating. He felt tears well up at the corners of his eyes as unbelievable pain shot through his body, almost fully paralyzing him.

"How does it feel?" the guard hissed. "We of the Imperial Guard take our jobs very seriously. All prisoners attempting to violate either of the rules here are severely punished." She slammed him against the bars again. "And you broke both of them. Can you even imagine what hell you'll be going through?"

He couldn't muster enough air to articulate a response.

She threw him to the ground and kicked him hard in the gut. "You'll feel pain you can't even begin to think about. You'll be tortured, mentally raped, over and over, for what will seem like an eternity. To top it all off, you'll suffer knowing that your friend is enduring whatever you are, tenfold."

"…What?" he managed, spitting out a mouthful of reddish saliva.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the guard cooed with a syrupy sweet voice. "Did I forget to mention? The disturbance down below? It's your fellow pirate, who slaughtered over a hundred prisoners without a second thought and now he's attacking guards. He doesn't seem to be one for morals. But we'll catch him, make no doubt about that, and we'll break him nonethele-"

Her boast was cut short as he reached forward and grabbed her pant leg in a weak grip. "Don't… say… that… _Verre_…"

He channeled most of his remaining energy into his loose fist. The guard made as if to attack, but found that moving proved to be difficult. She looked down at herself and saw that her underclothes were plainly visible through a sheet of glass. She froze when she realized the implications: if she moved, the glass would shatter and cut into her skin.

Alexander gave a pained smirk as he began pulling himself over to the hole he had created previously. Along the way, he threw his new key at Nikasen, hoping that the apprentice would get it. More than anything, he hoped that the key would hold up to the lock. He had only had enough time to create half of it, after all. After a few more painful pulls, he was at the lip of the gaping hole in the ground. Without a second thought, he pushed himself over the edge, needing the reinforcements he knew would come. As far as he could remember, the bars of the cells below were composed solely of simple iron…

After hanging onto the lip long enough to partially right himself, he landed painfully in a puddle of water, his leg slipping out from underneath him and falling fully to the floor. Shaking water from his eyes, he tried to stand, biting back a cry as he felt pain shoot up his left leg. By the feel of it, it was broken. Scrunching up his face as he raised himself into a kneeling position, he put his hands out and planted them on the bars, praying that he was right. He nearly sighed in relief as his fingers came into contact with normal, cool metal. "_Eau Magie!_"

He felt a foot kick him in the back, sending him sprawling to the floor. He let out a gasp of pain as somebody planted their knee on his neck, preventing him from moving. "You think you're pretty clever, don't you?" the guard breathed into his ear. "A few cuts won't prevent me from doing my job, so nice try. Unfortunately for you, none of the prisoners on this floor are stupid enough to try to fight us. You're just earned yourself a one-way ticket to-"

Her knee suddenly dug into his head, pressing his face further into the stone. His glasses shattered with a loud crunch and shards dug into his skin. Clutching his wounded face, he curled up into a ball, trying to minimize any more damage dealt to him. He felt something descend onto his shoulder and started, trying to withhold a pained hiss. Looking up, he realized with some surprise that Lyn was crouching next to him, her hand resting gently on his arm. Staring around, he smiled as he saw a vague outline of a person with a white hat standing defiantly in front of him, his vision swimming and fading. "Don't even think about harming my musician."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra stared down at the mostly-naked Imperial Guard, her cowboy hat casting dark shadows across her eyes. She had been leaning on her door and staring at the moon when she suddenly pitched forwards, hitting the ground quite unexpectedly. After seeing the water on the floor and realized what had happened, she roused Lyn from her slumber and set out to find the free alchemist. She had apparently found him in the nick of time, just as he was about to be permanently incapacitated by the guard.

The aforementioned guard sprang to her feet, ignoring her bruised cheek. "Back in your cell, pirate. Don't make me force you."

"Please," scoffed the pirate captain. "I just got free. There's no way I'm going back. Voluntas Carnae!"

The Imperial Guard lunged forward, but Cassandra was ready for her. She dodged to the side and threw her hand out, dealing a swift chop to the woman's throat. Lyn jumped in as well with a well-placed uppercut to the jaw. The guard stumbled a bit, then turned back around, looking more furious than before. "That's it. You're going to hell, express!"

"Hey, Captain! Captain!" Lyn exclaimed. "Remember what I was trying to get you to do last time? Can we try it? Pleeeeeease?"

The puppy-dog look Lyn had on her face was impossible to resist. She sighed, put her ring onto her gloved hand, and clenched it into a fist. "Very well, Lyn. Let's go!"

"Give me your best shot!" the Imperial Guard shouted.

The two pirates gave broad grins, one eager and playful, the other vicious and waiting. "Farben von Isis!"

Cassandra bent over and let Lyn use her back as a springboard, grimacing slightly at the impact. Feeling the first mate fly forward, she dipped to the side and lunged forward as well, trying to catch her opponent in a pincer movement. The guard was quick enough to dodge both punches, but was unable to launch an effective counterattack. Lyn slid along the floor and braced her shoulder against the stones to strengthen her upward kick, which the guard barely deflected. Cassandra used the upraised leg as a boost, leaping into the air and executing a neat butterfly kick. Her eyes widened as the guard grabbed her boot and swung her around, slamming her into the floor and fracturing a bone or three. Her eyes crossed temporarily as a dull buzz vibrated within her ears.

Despite her injuries, she began to clamber to her feet, intent on finishing off the guard somehow. Much to her surprise, she was hoisted upright by an eager first mate, who managed to jump over a particularly quick low kick. Cassandra grinned thankfully and caught her breath, thinking of her next course of action. By now, she was no stranger to close combat, yet her hand-to-hand skills were still pitiful. Unlike Lyn, who seemed fine without her rapier, she would feel a lot better with a physical weapon between her fingers. How had Alexander managed to cut the woman up that badly? He must have had something, something that she could use…

"Lyn, can you hold her off for a bit?" she asked, deflecting a rapid jab and throwing one of her own. "I have an idea that might help us out a bit."

The former nun nodded and took up a defensive stance, her grin unfaltering. "Whatcha have in mind?"

"No matter," Cassandra shouted, rushing backwards and searching for a certain hole in the ceiling. "Just give me a boost!"

Lyn caught her meaning instantly, forming a step with her interlaced fingers. Cassandra leapt onto her hands and was thrown into the air, her fingers barely managing to catch the edge. She dangled there for a moment, watching as the Imperial Guard threw a flurry of punches and kicks, only a fraction of which Lyn could fully avoid. The rest hammered into her defense, threatening to overwhelm the pirate. Summoning her strength, she pulled as hard as she could, bringing her head above the slanted lip. The moon glittered off of glass shards and hazel eyes alike as she found what she was looking for. Grabbing a sizable piece in her gloved hand, she dropped back down to the floor below and prepared herself. "Voluntas Carnae!"

She sprinted forward just as Lyn's guard was broken, delivering a nasty front kick and knocking the Imperial Guard aside. Crouching beside the downed first mate, she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "Are you alright?"

"Dear spirits, that hurt," Lyn groaned, her bruised lips still drawn in a cheerful smile. "Hurry up next time, will you?"

Cassandra could detect the reprimand underneath the jesting tone in the pirate's voice. "Go tend to Alexander, my friend. This woman is mine."

"Go get her!" Lyn shouted, rising slowly to her feet.

Grunting affirmatively, Cassandra began weaving from side to side, eyes scanning for an opening. The Imperial Guard had caught sight of her new weapon and was behaving more cautiously, not wanting to lose more blood than she already had. Cassandra feinted to the right, trying to attract the guard's attention. However, the guard was not fooled and lashed out with a powerful roundhouse kick, forcing Cassandra to dance back out of her reach. She needed to get in close and attack with her makeshift knife, but the Imperial Guard showed no signs of letting up her defense.

Cassandra grinned as she was struck with an idea. She slammed her gloved fist into her right palm, listening to the glass shatter in her clenched hand. Darting forward, she threw out her hand, sending the particles of glass hurtling at the guard. Unfortunately, her opponent was faster than she had expected. The Imperial Guard dashed forward as well, shielding her face with an already-bleeding arm. Cassandra had no time to slow down as she ran directly into the guard's ample bosom. Grinning cruelly, the guard grabbed her in a tight hug and flipped backwards into the air, spinning around slightly. "Take this, bitch! Imperial Pile Driver!"

The pirate captain let out a gasp of pain as she was smashed into the floor. By the feel of it, several of her blood vessels had ruptured and more than a few bones were broken. With the power of that attack, she was lucky that none of her internal organs had been damaged. Nevertheless, it would be some time before she would be well enough to move quickly again.

Her eyes widened as the Imperial Guard planted a foot on her throat, beginning to slowly choke her. "Fools! We are the elite, the top fighters in the world. What hope do you have of victory? You cannot defeat me! Your fighting skill is far below mine, or that of any other guards on this island! How do you dream of escape? Your fat suitman will be locked away forever, you will be executed right here, and your bitch will be whored off to whatever scum we manage to dredge up from the bowels of this land! You will all suffer!"

"You… you… sadist!" Lyn shouted, shooting to her feet beside the unconscious musician. "We all have dreams to fulfill! We will not die here!"

The guard gave a bark of derision. "Dreams? You make me laugh. Your dreams are worthless. They will achieve nothing."

"No…" Cassandra managed, grabbing the woman's foot and easing the pressure on her neck. "I… will be… Queen… of the Pirates. Be… sure of… that."

"Yeah?" the Imperial Guard sneered. "And how do you plan to achieve this fantasy?"

"Because we still have one more nakama," Lyn retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. "One whose fighting skill is better than yours will ever be! He's a sadistic bastard, but he's still one of us!"

The Imperial Guard was about to retort, but something drew her attention. The buzz had increased to a loud roar, which was evolving into a polyphony of screams and yells. The stairs began glowing a flickering orange hue, signaling the approach of their final hope. Cassandra imagined what the navigator would do if she told him that they all depended on him when they were most desperate. He would probably laugh and go back to doing whatever he wanted without a care in the world, but the fact still remained true. Despite all his flaws, they needed him.

"I thought they had him contained!" the guard shouted, dashing over to the stairs. "There is no way that-"

The rest of her sentence mutated into an agonized scream as a gout of flame erupted from the stairwell and completely engulfed her. The ground shook as their one and only navigator exploded through the wall, falling at their feet amid hunks of rock and mortar. He was completely immersed in flames and blood, his growl reverberating like thunder. Cassandra couldn't help but grin. She was glad to have him back.

Her smile evaporated as a horde of Imperial Guards streamed in from the hole he had created. Damien struggled to his feet, his ponderous bulk preventing him from moving quickly. Guards darted in like hornets, poking at him with their spears and keeping him at a distance. Forcing herself into a sitting position against a nearby wall, Cassandra picked up a handful of pebbles and began slowly flicking them at the guards, aiming for their eyes and mouths. "Fall back, pirates! Let's blow this joint! Damien, I need your help to stand!"

Lyn wholeheartedly agreed and began making for the exit, hoisting Alexander across her shoulders. Unfortunately, Damien seemed hell-bent on taking on the wave of soldiers, unwilling to depart until he stated his hunger for slaughter. Frowning, the pirate captain sent a small rock whizzing past his head, attracting his attention. "Damien, we are leaving! Now!"

The crazed navigator whirled around, dreadlocks spinning around his head, and gave an earsplitting roar. He lunged forward and threw out his shackled arms, his talons leaving lines of red blood hanging in the air. Only Cassandra's enhanced reflexes saved her life. She ducked to the side, listening as deep furrows were gouged into the wall above her. "What the hell, Damien?"

Her breath caught in her throat as she saw the problem. His face was covered in deep gashes and blood was flowing freely into his eyes, completely blinding him. He bounded forward once more, his flaming feet drawn back to deliver a devastating kick. Cassandra used her foot and hand to flip herself over and land on the floor, narrowly avoiding his attack as he plowed directly through the wall. However, she had again forgotten about his great metal wings, brutally reminded of them as they crashed into her body and sent her skidding across the floorstones. She eventually slid to a stop, her head spinning. She lay there for a moment, slowly regaining her senses. Her eyes focused just as Damien hurtled at her again, spinning around to increase the power of his mace-like arms. She tried to move out of the way, but her body wouldn't respond in time.

Suddenly, something large and white dropped in front of her, obscuring her vision. "Bao He."

She saw in shock as Damien flew right above her head, crashing into the ground some distance away. Shaking her head slightly, she gave a clipped cry of surprise as she was gently pulled to her feet by a pair of strong, calloused hands. Whirling about, she saw a tall bald man staring down at her with kind brown eyes. "Are you all right, Captain Black Glove?"

"Who are you?" she asked in shock, wiping a trickle of blood away from her temple.

"I am Apprentice Nikasen," the fighter said, standing up straight. "I have met your musician, who is a fascinating man. To think that he was able to free himself, then you and I not long afterwards, is astounding. He goes to prove that looks can be deceiving. However, the most pressing matter is-"

A loud growl cut into their conversation. Violently knocking aside the multitude of guards trying to keep him down, Damien rose to his feet once more. He turned to face his captain, his breath manifesting in short blasts of fire. "Why are you attacking me?" she shouted at him. "I am your captain!"

"He is completely immersed in the battle at this point," Nikasen told her. "And he perceives you as the greatest threat."

As if to prove Nikasen's point, the psychotic pirate threw himself at her once more, but the fighter placed himself between the two once more. He began moving his arms in a slow spiraling motion, preparing himself for the oncoming navigator. "Bao He!"

Cassandra watched with shock as Nikasen lifted Damien up as if the pirate weighed no more than a beach ball. Damien flipped through the air and left a crater in the floor as he landed. A cloud of red flew from his mouth as he gave a pained grunt, blood flowing from his wounds. After a second or so, he pushed himself upright and charged forward again, his shackled arms drawn back. "Diavolo Gorilla!"

"How do you do that?" the pirate captain asked.

"I redirect the energy of his attack into my own," Nikasen replied. "Luo Xuan!"

The fighter leapt forward, meeting Damien head on. Damien threw his fist forward, but Nikasen grabbed it and used it to turn his own body around, driving his elbow into the navigator's jaw. Swearing loudly, Damien stumbled backwards and shook his head. Having recovered slightly, he lashed out with his bound feet. Nikasen launched himself into a handstand, letting his hands get kicked out from underneath him. He used this spinning motion to drive his feet into Damien's skull, causing the navigator to roar in pain. The two combatants fought like this for some time, every exchange of blows ending the same way: Damien would attack, Nikasen would somehow use it to deal damage back to the pirate.

After a particularly nasty roundhouse kick to the stomach, Damien was sent rolling across the floor, his partially-blinded eyes falling closed. Nikasen stood there, gasping for breath and staring at the burns manifesting on his palms. "He is far heavier and more powerful than I anticipated. I would hate to fight him if he were unshackled."

"But what am I supposed to do now?" Cassandra asked. "He weighs more than ten, twenty men! There is no way that we will be able to drag him out, especially with the Imperial Guards attacking us."

"Speaking of which, why haven't the guards attacked us?" Loren chimed in.

"Why waste energy subduing two dangerous prisoners if they take each other out first?" Nikasen replied logically. "As for you, Cassandra, I would not worry about dragging him out just yet."

"What do you…" Cassandra trailed off, staring at her navigator. "He's not unconscious?"

Once again demonstrating his incredible constitution, Damien was climbing to his feet, staring at them with bloodied eyes. Nodding to Cassandra, Nikasen took a ready stance, slight facial spasms betraying the pain he was enduring. Cassandra watched in awe as the two fighters began their final attack. Damien was bleeding out and Nikasen looked as if he only had enough energy to stay a little longer. With this, it would all be decided.

"Hai Liu!" Nikasen bellowed, bringing his hands up and firmly planting himself on the ground.

"Diavolo Rinoceronte!" Damien roared, using his claws to propel forward at an alarming speed.

The guards were content to wait and try to apprehend whoever came out on top.

The entire scene seemed to slow down as he raced across the floor. Cassandra was wondering who would come out on top when something caught her attention. A blur of white had appeared out of the corner of her vision, racing towards the fighting duo. It flew the charging navigator and circled him once, striking at him with lightning-fast blows. Ducking out from underneath him, the blur slowed down enough for Cassandra to make out that it was a person dressed in the full clothing of the Imperial Guard. _Great. One of them can move faster than the normal eye can see_.

Surprise replaced her thoughts as the scene began to accelerate slightly and the effects of the guard's attack began to become evident. Damien was slowing down, his limbs were no longer moving as quickly as they had before, and he seemed to be losing control. Just as he was about to spring forward, he retracted his claws. His fingers and toes could not gain as much purchase in the stone floor and slipped out from underneath him, causing him to stumble slightly. His momentum was vanishing and his attack was falling apart.

Cassandra suddenly remembered that Nikasen's fighting style relied on his opponent's energy to deal damage. Turning to him, she saw that he realized this as well, trying rapidly to shift to a different stance. Before he could, Damien bulled into him, sending them both crashing to the floor.

Time seemed to resume at its normal pace.

The two fighters lay groaning an arms-length apart from one another, both breathing heavily and barely moving. The Imperial Guard who had just attacked Damien was calming down, merely staring at the pair. At first, nobody made a sound. Then, slowly but surely, cheering emerged from the surrounding guards, who were blocking every possible exit. Cassandra stared around, feeling all hope drain from her body. Her expectations were shattered; her dream lost. She would be imprisoned, tortured, and executed, vanishing from the pages of history without leaving a mark.

"How does it feel?" a guard taunted. "You almost made it!"

"You're worthless trash!" cried another. "You can't even control your own crewmate!"

"The lot of you deserve this, thinking you can defy us!" came a third voice. "We are the Imperial Guard of King Lui Juyon! You will never defeat us!"

Lyn was roughly shoved over to where Cassandra was, accidentally dropping the unconscious Alexander in the process. The jeering of the guards began to fill Cassandra's ears, making her feel even worse. She did her best to maintain control of her emotions, for her crew's sake. Her first mate was staring around, her smile gone from her face. Alexander and Damien remained in their states of inactivity, though the latter was still emitting fearsome growls. This truly was their defeat.

The badly burned, mostly naked Imperial Guard from before walked up to the pirate captain, staring down at her contemptuously. "What did I tell you? You have no hope of victory."

Cassandra could think of nothing to say to that.

"This tattoo will be on your face forever," the guard said, poking Cassandra in the forehead hard enough to send her stumbling backwards. "Even in death, you will be our prisoner. Can you imagine that?"

"It will not," Cassandra murmured, not even convincing herself with her words. "I will remove it somehow."

The Imperial Guard gave a derisive chuckle. "Keep telling yourself that." Shaking her head in amusement, she strode over to the guard who had incapacitated Damien. "Nice job! Everybody, what do you say to letting this one carry out the punishment?"

Roars of agreement echoed around them. At this point, Cassandra was past caring. Pure, unadulterated hatred was boiling in her stomach. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the first guard hand the second a knife, her mind trying to figure out a way to seize the weapon and exact some retribution, no matter how small. But she was too emotionally distraught to think of a plan. The cheers of "Take the eye! Take the eye!" were distracting her enough to almost miss the guard stepping up in front of her. Her eyes snapped up, preparing herself for whatever suffering she would receive. However, her defenses fell apart and her jaw dropped as she stared at the guard's face. Her body involuntarily relaxed as she gaped in amazement, unable to form any coherent thought. "No way…" she whispered.

The guard suddenly whirled around, slashing the scantily-clad guard's neck open in one fluid motion. The cheering abruptly halted as the woman stared forward uncomprehendingly, her hands slowly going to her profusely bleeding throat. She fell to her knees, then to the floor, her eyes glazing over with death. The hallway fell completely silent as everybody process the events that had just occurred in front of them.

"What is the meaning of this?" a tall Imperial Guard asked gruffly, clutching his spear tightly. "Why did you kill her?"

"The Black Glove Pirates are an unorthodox crew," the guard murmured loud enough for everybody to hear and pointed at Cassandra. "She, their captain, rules over the crew with friendship, not fear or power." The finger moved to Lyn. "She, their first mate, supports the captain and gets her through emotionally rough times." To Damien. "He, their navigator, can fight with the ocean itself and still come out on top." To Alexander. "He, their musician, boosts morale and keeps the crew from being disheartened."

"That does not answer my question," the guard stated.

Two eyes, as dark as voids in existence, focused upon his own. "And I, their doctor, keep the crew alive, no matter the collateral damage."

* * *

I can't really think of anything to say after this, except for that I couldn't let my arguably most popular character simply vanish from my story.


	29. Brutal Liberation

And after my extended trip to the land of the rising sun, I return to present you all with the 29th installment of the Black Glove Pirates. Luckily, I've managed to write enough to fill two chapters. Enjoy.  


* * *

Silence.

Dead silence.

Cassandra idly wondered who was more amazed with Raven's revelation: the pirates or the guards. She was astounded, for she had expected not to see the small woman again. Lyn's morose expression had vanished and her grin had returned wider than ever. Damien and Alexander had no response, though being barely conscious did excuse one from expressing emotions. The Imperial Guard were all staring at Raven, their eyes wide and their lips forming small O's.

"Raven!" Lyn gushed, leaping forward to hug the petite doctor. "I thought you left us!"

"I owe you," Raven droned. "And you seem to need a reliable fighter."

Cassandra quirked her lips. "So are you joining us until you consider your debt repaid or permanently?"

Raven remained quiet for a moment. "I will explain my reasoning later."

"It doesn't matter any more," Cassandra said, believing that there was hope for escape after all. "We need you right now. I'm ashamed to say I'm not that useful without my weapons…"

Raven's hand moved in a dark blur and something silver flashed through the air. Despite her injuries, Cassandra reflexively threw up her hand and grasped the object. She didn't flinch as the blood-covered knife halted a hairsbreadth from her eyes, carmine flecks spattering across her face. Twisting the knife to see her own reflection, she gave a dark grin. "Let's go. Raven, if you would?"

The newly-acquired doctor nodded and turned back to the guards, who had just regained their composure enough to rush forwards. "Bhraf Thaukuob." She vanished completely, retreating into the shadows. The guards paused for a second, staring around in confusion. This moment of vulnerability was all that Raven needed. She flitted among them like smoke on the wind, her own two knives flashing in the moonlight. She reappeared next to Cassandra, staring at her work dispassionately.

"What ju-" a guard began, but was cut off as his throat exploded in a geyser of blood. Cassandra threw her hand to the side, shielding Lyn's eyes from the crimson liquid. In no time, a circle of blood misted the air around them, thick enough to prevent the moonlight from entering. Cassandra felt a slight chill as she stared at the effortless murder her friend had just committed. The fact that both Raven and Damien were willing to kill on a grand scale troubled her slightly. She had faith in her new doctor's ability to control herself, but she was never sure when Damien would snap and slaughter everything in his sight. _I suppose having Raven to prevent him from doing so is advantageous_…

"Let's go back to the ship," Cassandra said wearily. "We can breathe more easily once we're out of this mess."

"Is your chest congested?" Raven asked, suddenly a hairsbreadth from Cassandra's face.

Involuntarily jerking back slightly, the pirate captain stared evenly at her. "That was a figure of speech. Now…" she turned to Damien. "How are we supposed to get him out of here?"

"He is not unconscious," Raven droned. "I merely restricted blood flow to his arms and legs. He will have difficulty moving them for some time."

Raising an eyebrow, Cassandra crouched down and poked him with the knife butt. "Are you awake?"

Damien gave a low grumble of acknowledgement, his sinewy muscles beginning to shift beneath his scarred skin. He slowly pushed himself up into a crawling position, then hoisted himself upright. Reaching down, he roughly grabbed Nikasen's collar and jerked the fighter to his feet. Nikasen looked like he was in pain, but bravely put up a strong face. "It feels… like I was struck by a locomotive. You weigh… more than I expected."

"I'da smacked ya one be'er if some dumb cunt 'adn' fucked me up," the navigator growled, casting a rage-laden glare in the doctor's direction through bleeding eyelids.

Raven stared coolly back at him, choosing to remain silent. Sighing internally, Cassandra turned around and motioned for her crew to follow her. Lyn, who had kept quiet since Raven had revealed her intentions of joining the pirates, threw Alexander over her shoulder and swiftly caught up with her captain. Damien slowly lumbered after them, with Raven bringing up the rear. "Where are you off to?" Cassandra asked without looking back.

"I will follow my own path," Nikasen replied. "I have a feeling we will meet again. Thank Alexander for me once more. When he wakes up."

"Will do," Cassandra replied. "Farewell, fighter."

"Farewell, pirate." There was no disdain in that final word, as Cassandra had grown so used to hearing it with. When she had been called a pirate in the past, most people had treated it like an insult, like she should be ashamed of the path she had chosen. But she was proud that she was a pirate and proud that she was a captain, slowly amassing one of the most bizarre crews ever to grace the seas.

"Captain, what about our weapons?" Lyn piped up, struggling a bit under Alexander's weight. "I mean, you worked so hard to get your new rifle and everything."

"Point well taken," Cassandra commented. "The most likely place for confiscated weapons to be stored is the palace armory. Raven, do you know where it is?"

"It is in the castle itself," Raven droned.

"And I presume you know how to get there?" Cassandra asked.

"I do." Raven appeared in front of them and began striding down the hallway in a slightly different direction, leading them towards the back of the prison. Looking about, Cassandra noticed a suspicious lack of guards roaming the hallways. There was no way that Damien and Raven had taken out every Imperial Guard on Spring Isle, so they were obviously regrouping somewhere to launch a counterattack. The best places to do so would be the gates of the prison and the gates of the palace, where little cover was available and sniping spots abounded. But she didn't put it past them to fortify the armory as well.

They walked in relative silence for a while, the only sounds the echoes of their footsteps as they strolled down the corridors. Each pirate was immersed in their own thoughts or struggling to stay conscious. Cassandra felt the pain of her broken ribs slowly ebb, making walking easier. But weariness was gradually seeping into her body and her movements were becoming sluggish.

"Stop."

Cassandra instinctively resisted the order, which resulted on her almost colliding with the woman in front of her. "Yes, Raven?"

"If we encounter any enemies in this state, our chances of survival are slim," Raven deadpanned. "I cannot use such an attack twice more, so you all will have to fight to some degree."

She turned around, gently poking at various points around Cassandra's body. When the captain made no indication of pain, Raven held her hand up to Cassandra's face. The pirate captain stared down at the small pill resting in doctor's palm. "And what precisely is this?"

"A combination of drugs which I believe will help restore your energy to some degree," Raven responded. "It will take around fifteen minutes for your body to fully absorb."

"Can these be detrimental to my system in any way?" Cassandra asked. Upon seeing her new crewmember shake her head, she threw her head back and swallowed it dry, using saliva to help it on its way. "And what will you do for the others?"

"Th' fuck… did you do… ta me?" Damien growled, slowly flexing his right fingers.

"I have merely inhibited the flow of blood to your limbs," Raven droned. "Your muscles will not obtain the usual amount of oxygen . For about an hour, your strength will be roughly a quarter of what it normally is. Any longer and the pressure buildup will cause your blood vessels to rupture and you will die. Only I can reestablish your normal flow of blood."

Damien stared at her furiously. "When ya free me, I'll fuckin' kill ya."

Ignoring this threat, the doctor looked over at Lyn. "Hold still."

Cassandra half-expected the woman to disappear to administer her treatment. Instead, Raven merely withdrew a roll of bandages from nowhere and stared at Lyn analytically. "I will need to remove your top if I am to stop the bleeding."

Lyn prodded the slash beneath her left breast. "Go right ahead."

Nodding, Raven cut away Lyn's bikini top and uncorked a vial she had materialized seemingly form thin air, tipping it onto her finger. The pale green liquid oozed out, slowly accumulating on her finger tip. Skillfully recorking and hiding the vial with one hand, the doctor smeared the substance over Lyn's slashes and bruises then began winding bandages around the first mate's body, taking care not to agitate any of her wounds. Lyn's face occasionally twitched as the cloth rubbed against her cuts, but she made no sound. "You are quite good at this," Cassandra observed quietly.

"As I have said in the past," Raven droned. "Curing and ailing are not so different from one another."

"What do you mean?" Lyn chirped.

Raven glanced up at her. "When one knows the human body as well as I do, healing it and destroying it are simple and not dissimilar options. For example, if I do this…" She poked Lyn's chest, then tapped various points around her body. "I can increase your heart rate and blood flow. You will feel more prepared for battle, but you have a higher risk of exsanguination. Luckily, my solution and bandages should increase your blood clotting rate and prevent you from bleeding out. If, however, I do this…" She turned to Damien, prodded his arms, legs, and neck, then slammed her palm into his chest. "I can kill a man."

Lyn turned to Damien, who was swaying from side to side. "Did you actually kill him?"

"I unrestricted his blood flow, as it was a temporary and risky method of incapacitation, and hit him hard enough to kill a normal man," the doctor deadpanned. "However, his metal ribs distributed the shock evenly enough to keep him alive. He should have a much lower heart rate than usual, which will make him tired and move more slowly, but he should be fine."

Damien fell heavily forward, slamming onto his face.

"And maybe I overestimated him…" Raven stated, staring down at him.

"You… fuckin'… 'ore…" he grumbled.

"He's fine," Cassandra dismissed. "More importantly, why did you come here and what can you do for Alexander?"

"Alexander is a rather unfortunate case," Raven murmured. "He has suffered lacerations and contusions over most of his body, his left femur seems to be broken, and he is suffering from severe exhaustion, probably from using his abilities too much and coming into contact with seastone. There is not much I can do for him here, save for stop his bleeding and keep his heart operating. He may regain consciousness sometime from twenty minutes to an hour from now and he may regain enough strength to walk on his good leg, but he will need to be carried until that time."

"Damien can carry him," Cassandra said, ignoring the navigator's "Fuck no." Leaning against the wall and staring out of the window at the clouds beginning to cover the moon, she sighed and closed her eyes. "What about my first question? And don't give me any crap about your debt, because we both know Summer Isle rendered that null and void."

There was a long silence, only broken by the distant echoes of thunder. Finally, Raven put down her bandages and looked up. "You intrigue me."

Cassandra blinked. "Come again?"

"You were a princess," Raven began. "An-"

Here, Lyn couldn't resist chiming in. "You were a princess?!"

"No, I wasn't!" Cassandra snapped. "At least, not in the way you envision it."

"And yet you gave it all up for something so fragile and trivial," Raven continued undeterred. "So I have decided to follow you to see what will come of it."

"Let's get one thing straight," Cassandra hissed, a sudden feeling of rage in her gut. "What I gave it all up for was not trivial. You of all people should know that."

"And when we departed outside the walls, I followed you. When you entered the prison, I infiltrated as a deliverer of supplies, then switched to the garb of the Imperial Guard. And that is how I arrived here."

"Whoa whoa whoa," Lyn interrupted again. "Let's go back to what Captain gave up being a princess for. What are you talking about?"

"It's nothing, Lyn," Cassandra sighed. "I wasn't a princess. Raven is just blowing everything out of proportion."

Satisfied with the answer, Lyn nodded and turned back to Damien, who was making angry guttural noises despite being face-down on the floor. Raven appeared directly beside Cassandra, her mouth a hairsbreadth from the captain's ear. "Why are you so adverse to your crew finding out about your past?"

"It is not for my crew to bear my burden," Cassandra replied under her breath.

"You did nothing your crew would not forgive you for," Raven breathed.

"I very much doubt that," Cassandra whispered. "But enough of this. How are we supposed to escape with such injuries hindering us?"

Raven glanced up at her. "We simply walk out."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Thirty minutes later, the pirates were making their way through the endless hallways once more. Cassandra felt considerably better, weariness no longer slowing her movements. Lyn acted as she usually did, the bandages around her torso, head, and right arm not hindering her in the slightest. Damien's entire body was swathed in cloth, including a few bandages across his eyes. Alexander was draped across the navigator's shoulders, his breathing more even and his pulse strong. Raven trailed behind them all, keeping constant watch over their surroundings.

"And after they found that all of the milk was blue, they _freaked_ out and began running around like five year olds!" Lyn concluded, laughing heartily.

Cassandra shook her head in amusement. "It's a wonder you weren't cast out of the convent by the time I arrived."

"Must by my natural charm," Lyn said airily.

"I'm sure that's what it was," Cassandra muttered, a wide grin on her lips. "After all-"

"Where're all those cocksuckin' guards?" Damien butted in. "They need t' pay fer ruinin' me eyes."

"Your eyes are not ruined, merely disabled," Raven droned. "And I have been removing any guards in our path ever since we left the prison."

"We left the prison?" asked Lyn.

"There were guards?" asked Cassandra.

"Yeh removed 'em?" asked Damien.

Raven blinked. "We are now in the dungeons of the castle itself, there were guards, and I removed them."

The group fell silent, pondering her answers to their questions. Cassandra, on her part, was slightly upset. She should have detected the guards as well, especially with her abnormal senses. Even without overloading her adrenal system, her nose, eyes and ears were all better than those of even above-average humans. No matter how tired she was, she should have known if somebody was watching them or tailing them.

"How can you move so quickly?" Lyn inquired. "And we're your nakama now. You don't have to hide anything from us."

Raven cast a look in Cassandra's direction, which the pirate captain pointedly ignored. "My ancestors created a deadly series of techniques."

"Jeez, nobody likes talking about anything around here," Lyn complained.

"First time Damien got drunk was when we were sixteen, before the Marines came," Alexander mumbled, alerting them of his return to consciousness. "We were at Jane's party and somebody spiked the drink."

"Don' 'member tha'," Damien yawned, scratching his bandaged eyes.

"You spent the entire night yelling at your parents about something or other," Alexander said with a light chuckle. "Every once in a while, you would get frustrated, storm off, wind up back in front of them, get mad at them for running ahead of you, and begin yelling again. The best part was how you would sometimes argue with thin air somewhere between the two of them. And you spent your morning hangover sleeping naked on the roof."

"And your parents didn't kick you out?" Cassandra wondered.

"Mum's a pirate, Dad's a doc," Damien grumbled. "They weren' strangers t' partyin' an' both knew 'ow t' deal wi' drunk fucks like me. An' wha' 'bout th' time yeh got drunk, Songbird?"

"Not supposed to bring that up," Alexander muttered.

Lyn's eyes fairly glowed. "Ooh, I wanna hear this. Damien, turn left now."

Unlike the first time, when he had simply ignored the order and walked into a slab of bedrock, he followed the first mate's direction. Unfortunately, Lyn had had a moment of directional dyslexia, sending Damien into the wall anyway. Instead of immediately retreating, he remained in the imprint he had created, his voice muffled against the thick rock. "Yer a cuntin' cocksucker."

"Sorry," Lyn said unapologetically. "Anyway, where are we going?"

"Ahead, there are five guards waiting to test our defenses," Raven droned. "After that, we turn left, ascend the stairs, and we'll be at the armory."

"That sounds too easy," Alexander murmured. "Why is the armory so close to the prison?"

"What if, by some freak chance, some prisoners revolt and try to escape?" Cassandra asked sarcastically. "They have easy access to their weapons this way."

"So we can expect some heavy weapons going against us," Lyn stated.

Raven nodded. "From the armory, we can depart using the passage that connects it to the side entrance of the castle. If we go unnoticed, we can ambush the guards there and flee the castle grounds before they fortify it too much."

"Now, stay quiet," Cassandra ordered. "Let's not give away our position too much."

Her demand for silence was in vain, as it turned out. Lyn began humming lightly to herself and Damien seemed unable to prevent his footsteps from crashing against the stone floor. Sighing to herself, she reached out with her senses, trying to detect the guards Raven was speaking of. Sure enough, she smelled a cluster of people just beyond the doorway before them and she grinned in anticipation. "I'll handle this."

"Captain, no!" Lyn whispered. "Remember how much trouble you had before?"

"I admittedly have confidence issues when I'm unarmed," Cassandra murmured back, grasping the handle of the silver knife. "But with an actual weapon…"

She stalked forward, mentally preparing herself. She truly believed in what she had told Lyn. Granted, she would have preferred at least a pistol, but an actual knife was good enough. "Voluntas Carnae et Fulmen Fulgorae!"

Throwing herself through the doorway, she twisted through the air, letting the enemies' blades cut harmlessly through her outer shirt. She lashed out with her knife, scoring a deep hit in one of the guard's arms. She dug the knife in and used it to pull herself forward, once again dodging the weapons swung in her direction. As she sped through the cluster, she caught sight of another sheath and threw her right hand out, barely grabbing hold of the leather-bound handle. Righting herself in midair, she skidded along the floor and looked up, taking stock of her enemies for the first time. _This'll be easier than I thought_, she mused.

Contrary to Raven's words, there were only four guards hiding behind the doorway. A quick sniff revealed that there was nobody behind or above her, so she was certain there was no sneak attack waiting for her. The guards before her were all slightly nervous; the injured one looked doubly so. Standing up straight, she cocked her head to the side, spinning her newly-acquired knives around. "Bring it on."

Instead of rushing at her all at once, the group sent a single guard forwards. He held his axe in front of him with shaky hands, obviously not relishing the concept of fighting the pirate captain. He evidently got over his fear, bringing his axe above his head and lunged forward. Cassandra took a single step back, letting the blade bounce off the floor. The Imperial Guard used the rebound to make a jab in her direction, but the pirate was ready for it. She crossed her knives in front of her, stopping the weapon completely. Ordinarily, she would have been pushed backwards, but the reverberations from hitting the floor had loosened his grip and weakened his blow.

Taking advantage of his surprise, Cassandra lashed out with her knives, gouging deep grooves in the shaft, just below the axehead. As the Imperial Guard recovered and threw back his axe for another strike, the blade broke off, sending him horribly off balance. The pirate captain darted forward once more, knives at the ready. "Manus Lavernae!"

She slashed at his neck, scoring a deep hit right below his jawbone and sending blood flying through the air. Following through with her movement, she lashed out with her other hand, letting a second guard to dance back out of her reach. She ignored the shallow scrape the guard made as he counterattacked and threw her knife with deadly accuracy, impaling the man through the eye. The guard screamed out in pain, releasing his sword and bringing his hands to his wounded face. She leapt forward to finish him off, but was forced to retreat as the third guard swung his own broadsword, nearly decapitating her.

Growling with irritation, she sprung back onto her free hand, then gave her wrist a mighty twist, sending her spinning about like a top and using her arm as support. Her flying boots knocked the legs out from under the only uninjured guard and her arm swiftly followed, aiming to slash at his unprotected side. However, the man was quicker than she expected and executed a similar maneuver, his own feet slamming into her back and sending her rolling across the floor. She pushed herself to her feet, her chest heaving with exertion. Using her free hand to push errant strands of hair out of her eyes, she brought her knife to her face and smiled. "Manus Lavernae!"

She dashed forward, dodging behind the guard with her knife in his eye and avoiding the Imperial Guard's broadsword. Viciously yanking out her weapon with one hand and stabbing him in the base of his skull with the other, she dealt his back a sharp front kick. Though she wasn't strong enough to break his spine, she did send him careening forward, disrupting her opponent's attack. She bounded after the falling guard, using him like a springboard to propel herself at the last two guards. Deflecting the sword with her gloved fist and disregarding the tip cutting into her cheek, she flicked her other hand in his direction. Just as she expected, the guard closed his eyes in anticipation for the knife penetrating his skin. She used this brief window of opportunity to duck under his sword and drive both knives into his gut, twisting them for greater effect.

"Ferramentum Putae!" Throwing her arms out wide and ripping his stomach open, she knocked his legs out from under him and turned to the last guard, the one she had initially stabbed in the arm. "It's just you and me now."

"Agreed," the guard replied, a smirk of his own growing on his face. "Now that those whelps are out of the way, I don't have to hold back any- urrghk!"

Cassandra straightened up and frowned, staring at the black spike protruding from his throat. The spike vanished back into his body amid a spurt of blood and the Imperial Guard fell, dead as a doornail. Raven casually stepped over the body, her eyes focused on Cassandra's. "We need to leave. Now."

* * *

This just goes to show that while Cassandra is primarily a gunfighter, she dabbles in other areas of combat as well.


	30. Successful Fugitation

Here is the 30th installment of the Black Glove Pirates, a gift from me to you as the second half of this two-for-one update deal.

* * *

"We need to leave. Now."

"What's the rush?" asked Cassandra, closing her eyes and returning her adrenal system back to normal.

"Storm's coming," Alexander replied, still resting on Damien's broad shoulders. "And we need to go now."

Nodding, the pirate captain turned and began striding down the hallway, remembering her doctor's previous directions. At the next intersection, she turned left, listening to the footsteps of her crew behind her. As they approached the stairwell before them, she detected more guards hiding in the stairs and slowed down, holding her hand up to signal her crew to do the same. "Damien, stop," she added, remembering that her navigator couldn't see.

Turning around slightly, she caught Raven's eyes with her own and gestured for the doctor to go in front of them. Raven nodded and disappeared in a black blur, flitting into the stairwell. While Cassandra could certainly have helped the woman, she did not fancy dueling with the Imperial Guards any more. She had taken out her opponents with no real difficulty, but she acknowledged the fact that they were probably new recruits and desired to avoid any real combat with veteran guards.

A few moments later, Raven appeared before them once more, signaling that she had accomplished her task. Nodding silently, Cassandra began forward again, taking care not to trod upon any corpses draped across the stairs. She mentally thanked Raven for keeping her kills clean, for ascending wet stairs was something she wanted to avoid. While she had no trouble keeping her own balance, she didn't want her navigator to slip and end up crushing the pirate on his back. Speaking of which…

"How're you feeling, Alexander?" Cassandra muttered.

"Getting better by the second," Alexander replied.

Cassandra dipped her head, indicating her pleasure, and arrived at a stop in the stairs. Slowly letting her knife creep around the corner, she used the reflection to count the number of guards lining up before the massive set of doors with the sign "ARMORY" above them. After doing a quick tally of heads and multiplying that by how many ranks she guessed there were, she leaned back and let her head rest against the wall.

"How many?" Lyn whispered.

Cassandra looked over at her, then at her male crewmembers. "Damien, give Alexander to Lyn and go through the doorway."

Her navigator gave a demonic grin and unceremoniously dumped Alexander into the first mate's waiting arms. Setting his fist on fire, he stormed through the doorway, knocking a few bricks loose as he nicked the edge of the frame. Listening to the sudden uproar around the corner, Cassandra turned to Raven and snapped her fingers to attract the doctor's attention. "You back him up."

Raven stared at her for a moment, then vanished once more. Cassandra patiently waited as her crewmembers wreaked havoc among the gathered Imperial Guards. She wiped off her stolen knives and stared pensively at them. The one she had taken from the Imperial Guard was battle-worn and chipped, a useful but tasteless weapon. Discarding it, she admired the silver-bladed knife, resolving to keep it. It wasn't balanced and consequently couldn't be easily thrown, but its robustness would be handy in close quarters and it could easily be tucked in a boot or pocket.

"In order from best to worst, who do you think is the strongest fighter on our crew?" Lyn asked suddenly.

Cassandra rolled her head to look at the energetic woman. "It's all situational. One on one, one on many, with weapons, without weapons, taken by surprise, taking by surprise… all of these factor in to who is most successful at a particular given time."

Lyn slowly cocked her head to the side, indicating her confusion.

"For instance, in terms of one on one, Raven is by far our best fighter," Cassandra explained, watching as an arrow flew by her head and embedded itself in the wall. "Her speed and knowledge of human anatomy puts her at a distinct advantage over most other people. However, her endurance and constitution pales in comparison to Damien's, who, as you have seen, can take on over five hundred men by himself."

"I see," Lyn said, nodding her head understandingly. "What about us three?"

Hearing the noises of battle begin to lessen, Cassandra pushed off of the wall and turned the corner. "We are special cases. I am much better at ranged combat, your skills are used differently than ours, and Alexander is in a category of his own. But we'll discuss that later."

Damien and Raven were standing amid a field of bodies, each pointedly ignoring the other. Shaking her head in amusement, Cassandra swiftly caught up to them, staring at the massive doors standing between them and the armory. "Damien, if you would?"

The navigator, who had somehow lost one of his pant legs, turned and drove his fist into the doors, shaking them mightily. His hackles rising, he inflated his chest and sent a burst of flame forward, setting the doors on fire. Waiting a few seconds for the wood to fully ignite, he punched them again, this time sending them flying open with a flurry of sparks and flaming splinters. Nodding thankfully, Cassandra strolled inside, staring around for her own weapons.

"Well, this is convenient," Lyn commented, walking up to the section entitled "SWORDS" and swiftly locating her rapier and beads. "You find yours, Captain?"

Cassandra strolled through the aisles, searching the racks for her weapons. Her sniper rifle was the easiest to locate, as it was one of the four guns longer than the human arm. Her four pistols were harder to find, but they were placed right beside each other on a rack farther down the aisle. Her knives were even harder to locate, being in a separate place altogether. However, her beloved throwing knives could be mistaken for none other and her great-grandfather's knives had a distinctive aura about them as well. Her last resort blade was impossible to locate, but she wasn't worried. She could get Alexander to fashion another for her with ease.

She barely batted an eyelash as her doctor appeared directly before her. "We need to leave."

"What is it now?" Cassandra sighed. "Did you let any guards escape and rouse even more troops?"

Raven merely pointed at the doorway, where the fire was blazing ever brighter and approaching a mound of barrels labeled "GUNPOWDER". Cassandra's eyes widened and she whirled around, searching for an exit. She quickly located a window set some distance up the wall and began trying to figure a way to get to it. She was in the middle of calculating the distance from a stack of crates to the top of the rack when she was abruptly yanked off her feet and tucked beneath a bloody arm. "What are you doing?" she yelled.

What Damien was doing became immediately apparent as he dashed across the floor, charging straight into the thick rock wall. Glancing around, she saw that Alexander was holding onto the navigator's neck for dear life, Lyn was hugging his waist and laughing merrily, and Raven was silently trailing behind them, waiting for him to create a hole. With a shock that reverberated through the four of them and nearly threw two crewmembers off, the sinewy fighter broke through the wall, leaving a cloud of stones and mortar in his wake. Straining her eyes and trying to see through the harsh rain, Cassandra barely caught sight of the distant island wall and made an educated guess as to how far they were from their ship. _But will we make it?_

"Did I mention this is insane?" she shouted as they plummeted towards the ground.

"Yahar!" laughed the blinded navigator. "Better fuckin' enjoy it, Cap'n!"

"I doubt I'll enjoy my back breaking over your arm," she grumbled sardonically. "Especially since your landing is going to be terrible."

Alexander craned his neck around to look at her. "Landing? Won't his metal bones keep him from dying?"

"He can't see," Lyn cut in. "Just thank the spirits we're gonna land on a road."

Cassandra glanced downward. "So we are. Damien, if you can, try to avoid that-"

_Crash!_

Four coughing fits echoed out of a large cloud of dust, splinters, and scraps of cloth. Wriggling out of Damien's tight grip, Cassandra shielded her eyes and tried to navigate her way out of the haze, but repeatedly slipped on the steep slope before her. A fierce wind abruptly picked up, knocking her head over heels. She chose to stay on the ground, waiting until the wind died down. When it did, she felt the patter of raindrops on her face and opened her eyes once more. Damien was folding his massive wings into his back, evidence that he had dispersed the cloud.

"C'mon, Captain!" Lyn shouted from somewhere above her, having ascended the small crater in record time. "Let's get moving!"

"How are we supposed to evade the guards?" Cassandra asked dispiritedly. "They own every piece of this island."

Raven appeared beside her, perched neatly on a broken spar. "There are four horses previously attached to the wagon which could carry us to safety. Damien can go directly to the ship as the crow flies while we zigzag across the country side."

"That could work…" Cassandra trailed off. "Can you get back to the ship on your own?"

"Fuck you," Damien grunted, which Cassandra took as an "I'll be fine."

She tried to climb the slope again, but was once again yanked up off her feet, this time by the scruff of her shirt. When her transport dumped her gracelessly onto a horse, she twisted around and stared at him, upside down. "You're gonna have to stop doing that."

"But it's so funny to watch your expression!" Lyn exclaimed as the navigator leapt out of his crater and into the darkness, flipping her off as he departed.

Cassandra righted herself and grabbed ahold of the reins. "One last thing: how are these horses so tame after their wagon was just smashed to bits?"

"Intimidating crewmembers is not allowed," Raven deadpanned. "Horses do not fall under that category."

The pirate captain stared into the eyes of the horse beside her, seeing only raw terror within. "Works for me. Hyah!"

The horses neighed loudly and began galloping down the path, causing Lyn to shout out in delight. Cassandra couldn't help but grin as well, having never actually ridden a horse before. The animal seemed to follow its own path, barely heeding any of her directions. Looking around, she saw that her crew was having similar luck, though Raven wasn't trying, Lyn was having too much fun, and Alexander was more concerned with staying on his horse than guiding it.

As usual, her first mate was the first to break the monotony of hooves and raindrops. "Okay, so like none of us have living parents, right?"

"You and this rain depress the hell out of me," Alexander mumbled. "And why do you always have so much energy?"

"Why wouldn't I?" Lyn responded. "I'm free as a bird with the four most interesting people I have ever met! No matter what we do, who we encounter, we always end up doing what we want and get away with it. This life, my life is worth living!"

"And why is it worth living without clothes?" the musician shot back. "You seem to be slowly shedding as we progress. Why, next island, you'll be stark naked."

"Look, you sophisticated punk," Lyn began.

"Sophisticated punk?" Alexander interrupted. "You're gonna have to come up with better insults than that, woman!"

"How about stuck-up prick or know-it-all bastard!" Lyn yelled. "I can go on all day!"

"You couldn't hold a candle to Damien when he gets riled up!" Alexander shouted back.

"Enough!" Cassandra hissed. "We are supposed to be escaping, not informing the guards of our presence. We have the advantage in terms of weather, but they know this terrain backwards and forwards. And let's not forget that we are not controlling these horses. Bottom line: we need to keep a low profile until we get to the walls. From there, we get rid of the horses, follow the wall north, and go through the wall. We'll wait for Damien to show up, then we leave. All in silence. Got it?"

"Yes, Captain," Lyn and Alexander responded simultaneously with the tone of two children being scolded by their mother.

Trying and failing to hide a grin, Cassandra looked over to Raven. "You sure you want to join us? We're a pretty unruly bunch, something you're not used to."

"I will adapt," the doctor droned.

Lyn remained silent for all of two seconds before she opened her mouth once more. "Okay, so I was a nun, Alexander and Damien were…"

"Priests," Alexander supplied.

"Right, priests…" Lyn repeated, before twisting completely around and staring Alexander in the face. "You, I can see. But Damien?"

The musician shrugged. "Okay, so not really. But continue whatever you were doing."

Lyn slowly nodded, turning back around. "So nun, priests… what were you before you joined us, Raven?"

The doctor gave a sideways glance. "An assassin."

"A nun, a priest, a berserker, and an assassin," Lyn summarized, showing no fear or surprise at her new crewmate's former profession. "The kind of people you attract, eh Captain?"

"Next on my list is a prince," Cassandra jested, deciding that the best way to keep Lyn relatively quiet was to humor her.

The rest of the trip passed in a similar manner. Alexander and Lyn made friendly banter, Cassandra occasionally interjected and Raven remained silent unless spoken to. The roads swiftly became slippery and the horses slowed to a quick trot so as to avoid falling. The pirate captain noted with some relief that the animals were leading them in the general direction of the chink in the wall, which would make leaving the island much easier. With that knowledge in mind, she sat back and enjoyed the ride back to her ship.

Of course, it was never as easy as she hoped it would be. They were forced to stop and hide several times to elude the watchful gaze of a band of Imperial Guards. Once, they had to dismount and lead the horses behind nearby bushes, standing still in the pouring rain as the troop marched by. Another time, they had to pull the horses through a river where the bridge had broken down, soaking them to the bone.

The trip back turned into a long, wet one, only made worse by the distant thunder and lightning. Although the natural phenomena had served them once by revealing a cluster of guards up ahead that they would have never detected, it was more often than not detrimental to their progress. The horses were spooked every time thunder shook the skies and Raven had to rein them back in with sharp bursts of her overwhelming killer intent. Though she was spectacular at directing it solely at the horses, it still scared the other pirates and occasionally attracted the attention of some nearby patrols.

Finally, after enduring such a long, arduous trip, they arrived at the gargantuan island wall. They turned and followed it as it curved with the shoreline, praying that the tunnel was near. After a little over a quarter of an hour, they found it. Were it not for Cassandra's sharp eyes, they would have completely missed the small crevasse. Limbs shaking and teeth chattering, they dismounted for the final time and released the reins. For a moment, the horses merely stood there, unsure what they were supposed to do. However, when Raven turned away and began walking towards the near-invisible tunnel, the horses turned and bolted, vanishing into the wet blackness. Cassandra ducked into the opening and began the slow crawl back. Her clothes stuck to her body, chilling it and severely restricting her movement. Water dripped from the ceiling and pooled on the floor, making it even more difficult to move. Nevertheless, the quartet pressed on, for their very lives depended on their escape.

When the water-slicked rocks gave way to firmly-packed sand, Cassandra nearly collapsed with relief and exhaustion. Knowledge of her proximity to the beach and subsequently the cove where the _Howling Knave_ was hidden spurred her on and accelerated her movements. Soon, they emerged into the raging storm once more, thrilled to be outside the cramped chink. After stretching their stiff limbs and necks, they crossed the final stretch back to the ship.

Upon entering the warm cove, the crew let out a collective sigh of relief. "It's good to be home," Alexander commented, managing to haul himself aboard, then falling to the deck, fast asleep.

As much as the pirate captain wanted to do the same, she had other business to attend to. "Damien? Are you there?"

Heavy footsteps echoed throughout the small cavern and soon the navigator's muscular form could be seen leaning on the poop deck railing, staring at the pirates on the deck with bandaged eyes. "Took you fuckers long enough."

"Damien!" Lyn shouted, sprinting up the stairs and glomping onto him. "How'd you beat us here?"

"Th' fuck you doin'?" Damien grumbled, staring down at her.

"You didn't answer my question," the first mate pouted, not moving in the least.

"An' you mine," Damien shot back. "Get off me, ya shit-eatin' 'arlot."

Lyn shook her head, hugging him even more tightly. "I'm freezing and you're warm."

Cassandra clapped her hands twice to gain the crew's attention. "Okay, we're all freezing, soaked and injured, so let's wash up, go to bed and leave tomorrow night."

"Fuckin' pussy, tha's what y'are," Damien snarled. "Go t'bed, Cap'n. Ah'll have us on Autumn Isle afore ye wake."

"Oh no," Cassandra said. "You're not navigating until you're better. Raven…"

The former assassin disappeared and reappeared perched on the railing in front of the navigator. Before he could react, she slammed her palms into his chest, sending him a step back. Damien remained motionless for a moment, then fell over backwards, dragging Lyn to the floor with him. Raven stared down that the pair, blinking slightly. "It is time to go to bed, Lyn."

Lyn shook her head again. "He's warm. I wanna stay here."

"He'll skin you alive if he wakes up next to you," Cassandra warmed, ascending the stairs to the women's quarters. "Why don't you come here and Raven will tell you a little more about herself."

That last part evidently did the trick. Despite Raven's emotionless glance in Cassandra's direction, Lyn leapt up and grabbed the railing, using it to flip completely around. She flew in a tight loop and slammed into Cassandra, sending them both tumbling through the open door. Shedding her wet clothes, the first mate plopped herself down on her bed, staring innocently at Raven as she walked in the door. "Story time."

Raven gazed at her. "Both of my parents are alive."

Cassandra sighed and shook her head. While Raven was an incredible fighter, she was truly even more tactless than her navigator. However, her surprise when Lyn said "Okay! Good night!" and began her nightly prayers nearly caused her to wonder exactly what went on in the woman's mind. She grinned and removed her own drenched clothes, preparing to go to sleep. _Whatever goes on in her mind keeps her happy. That's good enough for me._

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

In the West Blue Marine Headquarters…

"And what is your point, Your Majesty?"

"My point, you Marine dog, is that four pirates have escaped my prison, defying the laws of Spring Isle and consequently the World Government!" the Den-Den Mushi screamed irately. "That should be enough to get bounties on their heads!"

"There is no proof that they made it off the island," the Marine Lieutenant groaned, rubbing his temples. "Furthermore, you have neglected to pay the island taxes for the third year in a row, King Juyon. With this taken into account, what happens on your island matters very little to us."

"But we are part of the World Government!" the snail shrieked, its eyes glaring evilly at the Marine. "Since when have the Marines gone soft on pirates?"

_They're really not paying me enough for this…_ "Your Majesty, we are in no way condoning the actions of the individuals in question. We have to wait to review your clam, fill out the paperwork and then make a decision, a process which will take quite some time. For all we know, you're making these pirates up."

"On the contrary," another voice murmured. "Based on the descriptions, two of these pirates were taking refuge on an island that was recently burned to the ground. And, judging by the list of weapons confiscated from the pirates and the autopsy performed on Commodore Rick Slatch, the third pirate played a significant part in the destruction of the Marine Base. Coupled with testaments given to us by Shichibukai Dart Madaxe, we can identify these four pirates."

The lieutenant looked shocked at this. "You agree with the king, sir?"

"Of course not. As you stated, the negligence of the tax payments means that work will be slowed down. Good bye, King Juyon." Reaching over, the man plucked the receiver from the lieutenant's hands and placed it neatly back onto the Den-Den Mushi. "The king does not need to hear the actual reason that these pirates are not acquiring bounties. While his Imperial Guards are world-renown, even a band of Marine cadets could escape from his prison. Their individual fighting skill is great, but their group coordination and organization are quite poor and their reliability doubtful. No, another tactic is required to put these pirates away, one that will not require the public to panic at the rise of yet more pirates they should be worried about."

Glancing at the two hundred or so bounty posters on the wall beside him, the lieutenant nodded carefully. "I think I see, sir. There are countless pirates roaming the seas, but only a fraction of them are actually dangerous threats to peace."

"Exactly, my dear lieutenant, exactly," the Marine responded, patting his subordinate on the head. "No need to go blowing things out of proportion. Having one dangerous crew led by the Third Pirate King's sister emerge this week is bad enough. The people would begin to panic if another crew came to light."

"So what should we do, sir?"

"Quite simple, actually. Based on the vicious storm blowing eastward and Madaxe's word that they are not afraid of using the maelstrom Nemuartsksom to accelerate their escape, they are either at Winter or Autumn Isle. They will not land on Winter Isle without meeting the bandits and, as they are actually keeping up with their payments to the World Government, I will find out soon enough. If they land on Autumn Isle, a foolhardy but possible move, there will be a band of mercenaries waiting for them. I will see to it personally."

"Bravo, Captain!" the lieutenant applauded. "We'll have them no matter what they do."

"Yes…" the Marine captain muttered to himself, staring out of the open window. "We'll have them."

* * *

And there they are, laydeez and gents, the Black Glove Pirates! Thank you, come again.


	31. Finally Relaxing

And here is the 31st installment of the Black Glove Pirates. They have finally eluded the Imperial Guard, escaped Madaxe's pirates and made it out to sea. It's time for some relaxation, don't you think?

Beginning-of-arc disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.

* * *

The captain of the Black Glove Pirates was very confused.

She had been having a wonderful dream in which her crew had visited an island and had not created any chaos. While she knew it was a dream even while she was asleep, as there was no possibility of such a thing ever happening, it was still a pleasant dream. However, she was rudely awakened by slamming into the wall of her ship. Groaning in pain, she tried to sit up, but found out via a painful head-mattress connection that she was underneath a bed. A quick look around, during which several drawing utensils were found, revealed that she was underneath Lyn's bed. This was most puzzling, for Lyn's bed was clear across the room from her own.

Slowly worming her way out from underneath the bulky piece of furniture, she eventually found herself on a carpet littered with clothes and papers. Upon trying to stand, the ground gave a mighty heave and she was immediately catapulted into her closet, the door slamming shut behind her. Thus, with her feet above her head and a coat resting on her bottom, the pirate captain was very confused.

"What the hell?" Cassandra muttered, pushing off from the wall with her feet and winding up lying on the floor, half-in and half-out of her closet. Working her way over to her bed, which was securely bolted down as was custom aboard a naval vessel, she grabbed the bedpost and hoisted herself upright. Standing still for a few moments, she realized that the ship was rocking wildly. Her position under Lyn's bed and then in the closet made sense now. The biggest problem was: why was the ship rocking so badly?

"Well, that's a no-brainer," she growled to herself, glancing out the porthole and seeing a dark and stormy sea. She grabbed a raincoat and, neglecting to button it, located her hat beneath a pile of Lyn's shirts. She decided not to wear boots and stormed outside, determined to give the helmsman a piece of her mind. "What did I tell you about navigating until you were better?"

The navigator of the Black Glove Pirates gave a wild laugh, showing his true disregard for her words. Rain hissing as it evaporated against his skin, he was standing with both feet firmly planted and controlling the wheel with his right hand. His eyes were no longer bandaged, though the raw red lines on his eyelids could be seen even in the dim light. "Yer a fuckin' pansy, Cap'n. Ah've recovered 'nough t' do this!"

The first mate of the Black Glove Pirates popped up from behind him, dressed in a see-through white T-shirt over a red two-piece swimsuit. Rain plastered blue strands of hair to her face, but her radiant smile shone brightly through. Leaping up to sit on Damien's shoulders and lean heavily on his head, she looked down at Cassandra, mischievousness dancing in her electric blue eyes. "Wait'll she finds out where we are!"

A feeling of foreboding began growing in the pit of her stomach. "Where are we?"

"Alexander has the best way to show you!" Lyn shouted over the howling wind. "He's in the galley!"

Growling with irritation, Cassandra flew down the stairs, her feet slipping out from underneath her as she arrived on the deck. Picking herself off of the soaking wet deck, she wobbled over to the galley door and threw it open. She was grabbed by the collar and pulled inside, the door slamming shut behind her. "Try not to let the rain in, Captain."

The musician of the Black Glove Pirates returned to his seat, shaking his wet hand in the air. He was dressed in his usual black suit, which was a wonder considering the stormy weather. Cassandra noticed his proximity to the open stove and shook her head, figuring out what he had done. Nevertheless, the steaming kettle hanging from the ceiling looked inviting and the cup of tea in his hands closed the deal. "What kind of tea do we have?"

"Only green and black," Alexander responded, sipping his own cup. "Bags are in the pantry. The kettle is suspended so it won't tip over."

Cassandra walked over and got herself a bag of labeled _green tea leaves_. "So, the pair outside said you could show me where we are. Is this true?"

Alexander sighed and climbed to his feet. She watched as he made his way over to the table, never spilling a drop despite the shaking of the ship. A few pieces of paper were stuck to the wooden planks with knives, evidence that Lyn had been here recently. Grabbing a pencil from a cup hanging from the wall, Alexander sat down and looked up. "Okay, so these four circles are the four islands in this archipelago." He drew four circles at the center of each edge of the paper. "And this circle that almost touches them is the outer boundary of the maelstrom."

_I don't like where this is going_, Cassandra thought, putting the leaves back and walking over to the table.

"Now, this smaller circle within the large circle is the place where the currents are truly noticeable," Alexander continued on, oblivious of her discomfort. "And this even smaller circle is the eye of the maelstrom, where the water drops significantly below sea level. This was our path from Summer Isle to Spring Isle." He drew a curved line connecting two adjacent tiny circles that passed slightly through the largest circle. "And this is the path we're taking to Autumn Isle."

Just as Cassandra feared, the curved line connecting the opposite islands passed directly though the middle circle. "So basically, we're near the eye of the maelstrom."

"Heavens no," Alexander said, putting down his pencil. "We are quite some distance from it. But we are inside the stronger currents. Damien assured me that he'd be fine."

_I don't count resting at the bottom of West Blue as 'fine',_ Cassandra thought, stirring her tea. "Where is Raven?"

"She was in the medical ward, last time I checked," Alexander said offhandedly, returning to his seat by the stove. If you go to seek her out, could you please close the door behind you?"

Cassandra yanked open the door and leapt through it, pulling it closed with her foot. She barely managed to open the trapdoor against the powerful winds, so she had to slip beneath the crack she was able to create. She descended the wet steps into the medical ward, amazed that the place was still dry. "Raven?"

The doctor of the Black Glove Pirates looked up from the book she was reading. She was crouched on the counter, her ponytail falling to the floor below. As always, she was dressed in her skintight black outfit that somehow held a myriad of vials and flasks. Her emotionless black eyes bored into her captain's, remaining perfectly still. "Cassandra. Perfect timing. Would you like to have your check-up now?"

"I guess," Cassandra answered, walking towards the woman. "What about the rest of the crew?"

"They already had theirs," Raven droned.

"Mmm," Cassandra grunted. "Anything unusual?"

"Lyn is in genuinely perfect health. Damien has an abnormally high blood cell count, his skin is unusually tough and his normal BAC would be lethal to most human beings. Alexander has a mild sore throat that is in its ending stages," was the response. "Sit on that bed."

The pirate captain did as she was instructed, waiting for Raven to finish reading. After a few minutes, the doctor closed the book and hopped off the counter, strolling over to the seated woman. Cassandra stared at her, mildly surprised that she was eye to eye with the doctor despite being seated. "Isn't there doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Only if they desire," Raven responded. "Lyn and Damien do not care and Alexander said I was alowed to inform you. Now, open your mouth and say 'Ah.'"

"Aaaaaaah."

Raven peered inside her patient's mouth, using a tongue depressor to keep Cassandra's tongue at bay. Satisfied, she discarded the thin slab of wood and went over to a clipboard, marking something down. Without saying a word, she picked up a small rubber hammer and walked back to Cassandra. She lightly tapped on the woman's left knee, sending her foot flying. After repeating the process with her right knee, Raven walked to her clipboard, marking something else down.

"How do you know so much about being a doctor?" Cassandra asked as Raven approached her with a black armband and a pump.

"Reading," Raven said laconically. "Hold out your arm."

"And why did you let Damien take the helm even though he's injured?"

Raven wrapped the band around Cassandra's arm and began squeezing the pump. "His injuries should not hinder his ability to navigate the ship and it is not my job to tell him not to. According to Alexander, the only ones who can give orders are the captain and the first mate."

_I bet he said that to avoid doing more work_. "You know, your people skills are improving dramatically."

Raven merely stared at the captain as she released the pressure on Cassandra's arm and removed the device.

"Well, all I'm saying is that before, you wouldn't ask Alexander about piracy unless you had no other choice. The fact that you did so voluntarily shows that you're beginning to open up to the crew more."

"I did not go to him," Raven replied as she walked over to her clipboard and jotted down a few numbers. "He informed me during his check-up. There was no initiation or continuation on my part."

_So much for that idea_, Cassandra thought. _It was a bit too optimistic to hope that Raven would adapt so quickly_. "Anything else?"

"Remove your clothes."

"Going back to my previous point, manners and tact are not as unimportant as Damien and Lyn might lead you to believe," Cassandra informed her, stripping down to her underwear.

"Step on that weight against the wall," Raven droned, ignoring Cassandra's words. When the pirate captain did so (after a bit of stumbling considering the ship was bucking violently again), she hopped onto the counter and observed the measurement at the top of Cassandra's head. She also glanced at the quivering needle indicating Cassandra's weight, then wrote down both results. "When was your last period?"

Cassandra thought for a second. "Twelve days ago."

"Any unusual pains or abnormal feelings?"

"Not that I can think of."

"I need a blood sample," Raven stated, leaping off the counter and swabbing Cassandra's right index finger with an alcohol-saturated cotton swab. In one fluid motion, the petite woman pricked the fingertip, placed a slide underneath the wound, gathered a single drop of blood, and placed a slide cover on it. Walking over to the nearby microscope, she placed the slide underneath the device and peered inside. "It appears to be healthy." She wrote something down. "Why have you begun dying your hair?"

The pirate captain absentmindedly twirled a few strands of brown hair around her fingers. "Well, I only dyed it once, a month or so ago when I was banished. I would prefer to leave my past behind and create a new identity. In case you're wondering, that's also why I dress like a cowgirl. I arouse much less suspicion this way."

"That would explain why your natural hair color is showing at the roots. And as a non-medical question, since when have you slept in so much? You never used to as an assassin."

"I feel comfortable with my crew around me," Cassandra said. "I don't have to worry about being attacked without any warning."

Appearing right in front of her, Raven peered into her eyes. "And for no other reason?"

"No, why?"

Raven continued to stare blankly into her eyes, making her feel slightly uncomfortable. After a long while, the doctor retreated slightly and turned away. "Lay back on the table and put this on."

The pirate captain reflexively caught the small object thrown in her direction, instantly recognizing it as her ring. Puzzled by her doctor's instructions, she nevertheless did as she was told. After gathering a few tools from the cabinets below the counter, Raven walked over to her and briefly glanced down. "I assume that since you can enhance your senses that you can reduce them as well."

"I can," Cassandra confirmed.

"Do so." Shaking her head in amusement at Raven's complete lack of courtesy, she took a deep breath and numbed her senses. She instantly realized what Raven was doing when she felt a dull pain across her forehead. She had forgotten about the tattoo she had received on Spring Isle and had been wondering how she would get it removed. The pain sharpened considerably as a soft ripping sound could be heard. If she hadn't numbed her sense of pain to form a natural anesthesia, she knew she would be in agony right now. She barely felt Raven take the ring off her finger and begin to wipe at her forehead. "You may return your senses to normal now."

Cassandra sat up and gingerly prodded her forehead. Feeling no pain, she looked around for some sort of reflective surface to review the doctor's work. She found a platter covered in medical equipment and hopped off the bed to walk over to it. Pushing the various tools out of the way, she looked down to see that her forehead was perfectly smooth and unstained. She let out a sigh of relief. _Thank Mors… I feared that I would bear that for the rest of my life_…

However, something was nagging at the back of her mind, something important. Turning back to her petite crewmember, Cassandra frowned and spoke four words. "How did you know?"

"It does not take an intense knowledge of human physiology to figure it out," Raven responded. "Why you are hiding it from your crew is beyond me."

"My… no, our crew might be full of bizarre people, but all of them abhor liars and hypocrites," Cassandra sighed, slumping back onto the bed. "I can't tell them now."

"They will find out eventually," Raven droned. "You and I both know it. How do you think they will feel?"

Cassandra ran her hand through her hair. "Just… don't tell them, okay? I'm asking you as your patient, captain and friend."

Raven stared at her for a moment then dipped her head once, climbing back onto the counter and opening her medical book once more. "Very well. You are dismissed, Cassandra."

The pirate captain put her clothing back on and began to ascend the stairwell. Just as she was about to leave the doctor's line of sight, she paused and turned around. "What did you just say?"

"What do you prefer to be called, Captain or Cassandra?"

The pirate chuckled. "Just call me whatever you want to."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

It was evening when Damien finally exited from the raging storm and out of the dangerous currents of the maelstrom. Cassandra noted with no degree of amusement that lightning had torn up the ship terribly. Her navigator's metal skeleton and her ship's high mast drew electricity from the sky with unerring accuracy, causing her ship to receive substantial damage. The poop deck was missing railings and even a patch of the floor, half of the crow's nest was missing and the main sails had been burned clear through the middle. Even with Raven and Lyn's repairs to the expansive piece of cloth, Cassandra wasn't sure how long the ship would remain intact.

But being out of the storm raised her spirits immensely and catching sight of their destination only raised them higher. "I can't believe we got this far in just under a day!"

"Told ya I could fuckin' do it," Damien growled, leaning heavily on the wheel.

"Never doubted you for a second," Cassandra assured him, a broad grin on her face.

The navigator gave a skeptical grunt, his eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep. Seizing her chance, Lyn swung over from the main mast to the mizzenmast, then slid down another length of rope, landing quietly behind the tired pirate. Gathering all her strength, she ran up and gave him a hard shove. He didn't appear to move at all for a moment, then the ship was rocked by a passing swell and tilted ever so slightly to the side. This additional movement was all that was needed to tip the navigator slightly off-balance. The wheel spun slightly, then more rapidly, sending him tumbling to the deck. All he did was roll onto his back and begin to snore loudly.

"Yes!" Lyn shouted. "Score one for me!"

"What did he ever do to you?" Alexander asked, looking up from the trumpet he was polishing by the mizzenmast.

Lyn turned to look at him, a spark of playfulness dancing in her eyes. "I finally pushed him over! I've been trying to do that for ages!"

"You cheated, you know," Alexander informed her. "You're not allowed to use the wheel."

"I am too!" Lyn objected, pouting childishly. "How else am I gonna do it?"

"I have no idea," Alexander replied, standing up and stretching. "Figure it out yourself."

"Enough," Cassandra cut in. "Autumn Isle was dead ahead until you made Damien turn the wheel. Lyn, man the helm while Damien's out, which could be any time from a minute to tomorrow. Raven, where the hell are you?"

The doctor in question appeared by Cassandra's side. "Yes?"

"How far can you teleport?" Cassandra asked.

"You know as well as I do that I cannot teleport," Raven droned. "I can simply move very quickly and through the air."

"Answer the question," the pirate captain said, leaning on the railing.

"Moving at high speeds drains my energy much more quickly than if I simply use Ran Irz. Either way, I cannot make it to land just yet."

"Damn," Cassandra muttered. "I guess we just have to wait."

Lyn lashed the wheel in place and bounded in front of her captain. "Let's play poker!"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "What is it with you and poker?"

"It's fun and we get to find out more about each other!" Lyn explained. "Come on… pleeeeeeeeease?"

The pirate captain sighed, knowing that once Lyn got interested in something, nothing could deter her. "All right. Shall we do it out here, since the winds fairly light?"

Lyn vaulted over the poop deck railing and vanished into the women's quarters. Seconds later, she reappeared with her deck of cards and plopped herself down against the mizzenmast. "Oh, and you have to play, Raven. You're one of us now."

"Very well," the doctor deadpanned, crouching on the wheel.

"Can we play Hearts?" Alexander asked, glancing at the sleeping navigator. "I rarely get to since Damien refuses to play such a… 'fucking retarded' game, I think he said."

"Okay!" Lyn agreed brightly. "How do you play?"

"It's quite simple," the musician assured her. "First, deal the four of us thirteen cards. Once you pick them up and look at them, you will choose three cards to pass on."

"What are the factors involved in choosing cards to pass on?" Cassandra interrupted.

"I'll explain the game mechanics first. Person A plays a card, let's say the two of clubs. Then person B plays a card. If B has any clubs at all, he or she must play them. If not, then B may put down any other card they wish. After all four people have placed a card down, the person with the highest value of the initial suit gets the cards. Then, that person starts the next trick. Points are scored at the end of the thirteen tricks as follows: you get one point for every heart card and thirteen for the Queen of Spades. The goal of the game is to have the least amount of points at the end of the rounds. Sound good?"

There was a brief silence. "Okay, so I want to get rid of my hearts by giving them to other people when I have no other of a particular suit?" Lyn asked.

"Precisely," Alexander said, looking pleased that she had understood so quickly. "Do I need to repeat myself or shall we play?"

"Let's do a brief test run," Cassandra proposed. "We pass to the left or to the right?"

"Right," the alchemist said. "But we play clockwise. Let's go."

Lyn had already dealt out four piles and given them to each pirate. The quartet picked up their hands and scrutinized them, carefully choosing their three cards. Cassandra had an even mix of cards, though she had only two diamonds. She also happened to have the Queen of Spades, which she viewed as a good thing. Picking her two diamonds and a random club to pass on and receiving three spades in return, she kept a poker face on and leaned back against the railing. "How do we begin?"

"Well, whoever has the Two of Clubs plays it," Alexander said.

Raven silently placed the card face-up on the lightly-swaying deck. Alexander played his Ace of Clubs, Cassandra played her Eight of Clubs and Lyn played her Ace of Hearts. Pausing just as he was about to withdraw the cards, the musician looked sharply up at her. "Oh, and you're not allowed to play any hearts on the first turn."

"Hey! That's not fair!" Lyn shouted. "You can't leave out important parts of the rules like that!"

"I guess not," Alexander mumbled. "I'll let it go this time. But do you honestly not have any clubs?"

Lyn shook her head furiously. "Only diamonds, hearts and spades."

Alexander looked skeptically at her, but took his cards nevertheless and placed another down. "Are you sure you've never played this before?"

"Nope!" Lyn chirped. "I didn't play cards back on Alementia!"

"I doubt that," Alexander grunted. "But whatever."

The pirates fell into silence for a moment, mechanically playing the game. After a short while, the musician turned to the woman to his left and began speaking again. "The techniques created by your ancestors… what are they exactly?"

"If you meet some of the highest ranking Marines, you will encounter much similar powers," Raven droned. "Long ago, my ancestors created nine of them. A lesser family of assassins bastardized seven of the techniques and began teaching them to the Marines. I am proficient in two of them, moderately skilled in three, barely able to use two and unable to use one."

"Your two best ones are moving at high speeds and jumping in midair, am I right?" Cassandra asked.

Raven nodded once. "I combine them to give the appearance of teleporting from place to place. However, it is not truly teleporting as I cannot travel through solid objects."

"Back up for a moment," Alexander cut in. "You mean to say that there are Marines that can move like you do?"

"No. The family who taught them only learned the basics of each technique. The Marines you encounter cannot move as quickly or as accurately as I can."

"That's a relief," Alexander sighed. "I thought Damien was going to get himself killed going against another person with your who actually intends to kill him."

Raven's gaze never moved. "I still hold no reservations in ending his life."

A dark chuckle signaled Damien's return to consciousness. The navigator raised his head slightly, staring at the sitting doctor. "Bring it, bitch."

"You are still wounded," Raven stated. "However, if you wish, I can use you to demonstrate an ability that I still need to practice."

"An' I 'ave somthin' tha' I need ta try," he growled, standing up straight.

Quick as a flash, Cassandra had her guns out and trained on her two bellicose crewmembers. "You two _will not_ fight on the ship. The _Howling Knave_ is already in serious need of repair and if you two start dueling, it will fall apart. So long as you don't kill each other, you can go and fight on Autumn Isle but until then, stop."

"It feels like I've heard this before," Lyn commented, drumming her fingers on the deck. "Will this become a common occurrence, I wonder?"

"It's because their personalities just aren't compatible," Alexander explained. "Raven displays no emotions, which irritates the completely expressive Damien, but her lack of social grace, if you'll excuse my frankness, can seem like arrogance, which only further incenses him. Add in the fact that he's a psychopath, his dream is to be the best fighter in the world and she is currently better than he is… you've got a pretty bad situation here."

Lyn pondered this for a moment. "How can you discuss it so openly in front of them?"

"They both know these facts," he sighed, glancing at the pair. "I was merely explaining them. Well, the hope for Hearts is over with and we're going to reach Autumn Isle in under an hour, so we might as well go over what we're going to do."

Cassandra sighed and put down her cards. "So, does anybody want to volunteer to stay behind and watch the ship?" No response. "Fine. We'll draw straws then."

"I would like to cash in my 'get out of watch duty' card I won last poker game," Alexander informed her, picking four splinters from the railing and melting the ends off of three of them to make them equal in length.

"I forgot about those," Cassandra muttered. "Give me the sticks."

A short while later, Damien, Lyn and Cassandra were all staring at the island in anticipation while Raven vanished and reappeared in the damaged crow's nest. Cassandra felt slightly bad about leaving her newest crewmember on watch, but it was luck of the draw. And, in all fairness, she felt quite uncomfortable with having either Lyn or Damien keep watch, for they would both certainly shirk their duties in favor of visiting the town. She rubbed the butt of her newly-acquired pistol pensively, planning her own activities on Autumn Isle. _Tonight is going to be most interesting…_

* * *

And that's the end of this chapter. Hope you liked it and stay tuned for next time.


	32. Multifarious Pastimes

It has been a bit too long since I've last updated. About a month, by my reckoning.  


* * *

Cassandra strolled through the well-lit town, dressed like she always was. While she knew her pistols were dismissible as part of her cowgirl getup, her sniper rifle drew no end of stares, both fearful and covetous. However, she was confident that she could take care of anything with any of the ten weapons on her person and paid no heed to her surroundings aside from careful wariness. She turned right and narrowly avoided colliding with a man twice her size with an abnormal amount of body piercings. Ignoring him, she continued down the street, her gaze fixed on a market stand halfway down the block.

Arriving at the produce, she let her eyes rove over the wide variety, trying to figure out which apples were the largest and most juicy. Making her decision, she reached out and hefted it, pleased with its weight. Choosing another such fruit, she nodded in satisfaction and turned to the cashier. "How much?"

"400 Beli," the adolescent said, not looking up from the magazine he was reading.

Withdrawing four coins from her pocket and placing it on the counter before him, she strode off once more, munching happily away. Her snack served a dual purpose: she was able to monitor her surroundings while appearing like an innocent albeit well-armed traveler and she was enjoying herself. She continued down the street, making sure to avoid eye contact for too long.

"Oi, miss!" a voice shouted, attracting her attention. She turned slightly to see a man hanging out of a second-story window, gesturing wildly at her. "I'll give you 500 Beli for that other apple you have!"

"This apple is not for sale," she informed him, still only halfway done with her first one.

"Come on… don't be stingy!" he shouted. "700 Beli!"

"If you have that much, go down and buy it yourself," she said loudly. His goal was obviously not her apple, but what was it? Her unspoken question was answered as she felt somebody stealthily sneak up behind her and begin to slip his hand in her pocket. Grinning in amusement, she decided to act as if she didn't know she was being conned and continued talking to him. "Now, maybe if you offer 1,000 Beli, I'll change my mind!"

"Ah, miss," the man whined pitifully. "You drive a hard bargain. I'm a poor, bed-ridden sailor whose wife is out with her friends and whose only daughter deems him unworthy of her presence. Can't you help me out, just a tiny bit?"

Cassandra pretended to ponder this for a second. "I'm so sorry! Here, why don't I just give you this apple for free?"

"Oh thankee kindly!" the man shouted jubilantly, his eyes remaining on her face the entire time.

Placing her almost-consumed apple in her mouth, she drew her right hand back and prepared to throw. Quick as lightning, her left flew to her pistol and whipped it out, pressing it against her would-be thief's forehead. She bit through the last remaining piece, revealing her amused smile. "I commend you for your efforts, but-"

Her glee swiftly turned to irritation as she felt a weight being lifted from her back, something that certainly shouldn't be happening. She whirled around to see a third man sprinting away at top speed, her sniper rifle clenched tightly in his fists. Growling slightly, she was about to change targets when the second man grabbed her wrist, preventing her from doing so. However, as she, like most other humans, mermen and giants, was gifted with two arms, she was able to her other pistol and take careful aim at the fleeing figure. "Basia Veneria."

The pistol gave a light _spat_ as it fired, felling the man instantly. The second man instantly released her wrist and ran over to his downed comrade, Cassandra tight on his heels. Retrieving her rifle, she strapped it to her back again and holstered her pistols as he shook the thief's shoulder vigorously, attempting to incur some sort of response. Receiving none, he looked up at her miserably, his eyes filled with tears. "Why did you kill him? We weren't going to hurt you or anything, only take your gun!"

"I didn't mean to kill him," she said, honest shock in her voice.

But the man would have none of it. He hugged his slain friend to his chest and began rocking back and forth, repeating his name over and over again. Disregarding his bawling, Cassandra tilted her head slightly to study the wound. She had been absolutely positive that she had aimed only to graze his temple, which would have stunned him and allowed her to recover her rifle without any undue casualties. Yet the shot had perfectly penetrated his spinal column and exited through his bottom jaw, shattering both. Even though the shot had been fired from her right hand, there is no way she would have missed her target by that much.

Deciding to walk away before an audience gathered around the scene, she ducked into a nearby alleyway to ponder her miss. "I've hit much more distant targets with higher accuracy than that," she mused aloud. "So what has changed since then? Adrenal overload? No, that wouldn't make that much of a difference at that distance. I've gotten lax in my practice? While that may be true, I doubt I would stray that far from my intended target."

She withdrew the pistol and stared analytically at it. The dark weapon didn't even reflect the flickering lamplight behind her. "How bizarre," she murmured, taking a bite out of her second apple. She didn't want to be too credulous, but she wouldn't put it past her ancestor to manufacture a gun that was created solely for killing. She resolved to test it out at a later point and put her pistol away. Striding out into a wider boulevard, she made her way through the port town and eventually made it to her destination.

The _Hidden Mantis_ was the same as it always had been. From the outside, it looked like a residence, with windows behind which people appeared to have dinner and conversation and a young dog gnawing on a bone outside. Not fooled by the façade, she opened the door and walked inside. The long corridor before her spiraled slowly downwards, leading her to the true building. She found her progress arrested by a thick steel door flanked by torches on either side. Sighing loudly, she rapped on the door with her knuckles, letting the sound reverberate though the metal. A voice instantly echoed through the Baby Den-Den Mushi hanging from the ceiling above her, not phasing her in the slightest. "Who goes there?"

"Let me in," she commanded. "I am Cassandra Negras, daughter of Eirwyn Negras, head of the Black Glove Assassins."

"You make a bold claim," the voice grunted. "Miss Negras was captured on Spring Isle just yesterday. Do you mean to say she somehow escaped Spring Isle Penitentiary and crossed the ocean in under 24 hours?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying," she retorted. "Now open this door at once."

There was a brief silence, during which Cassandra was seriously tempted to fire her rifle at point-blank range and penetrate the door. Her dark thoughts were interrupted, however, as the door swung open of its own accord. Nodding curtly at the little snail on the ceiling, she strode through the doorway and into the belly of the beast. It would be the first time meeting other less friendly assassins and mercenaries since her banishment and it promised to be quite interesting.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Lyn strode down the city streets, staring cheerfully about. She had been following Alexander for a while, but he had seen something that interested him and had wandered in its direction. Reasoning that whatever the musician wanted to see would be boring, the first mate went in a completely different direction. She wasn't quite sure what her current goal was, but that never bothered her in the slightest. She would probably roam throughout the city for a while, have a few laughs and go back to the ship to keep her newest nakama company.

"Hey!" a call came, drawing her focus. A burly man was leaning out of a nearby window and waving his arm frantically, his eyes gazing directly at her. When he saw that he had attracted her attention, he grinned and began shouting once more. "Would you like a drink?"

"Okay!" she responded, bouncing over to the building and through the swinging doors. She immediately recognized her surroundings as a tavern and a grin grew on her face.

The man led her to the bar and reclined on a stool, staring curiously at her. "What'll it be?"

Lyn turned to the myriad of bottles lining the far wall and cocked her head to the side. "Surprise me."

Laughing, the man turned to the bartender and said, "One frozen daiquiri and one Old Black Rum, quick as you like."

"As you wish," the barman replied, bowing deeply and beginning to prepare the drinks.

"So…" the man turned to her. "What's a fine lady like you doing out this evening?"

"I'm just passing through," she answered. "I'm Lyn. What's your name?"

"Eric," he said with a smile. "Eri-"

"Oi, lumberjack!" another man called, sauntering over. "You got to talk to the last pretty lady. Shouldn't it be my turn?"

"I already bought her drink!" Eric shouted. "Besides, I'm not doing anything offensive, am I?"

Lyn shook her head wildly. The second man scoffed and leaned on the bar next to her. "My name's Doyle. Don't listen to this lummox and whatever he's trying to tell you."

"Listen, Doyle," Eric growled through clenched teeth. "Why don't you leave poor Lyn alone and go pester some other girl?"

"Follow your own advice," Doyle growled back. "Don't sicken her with your presence any more."

"How about both of you louts go away and let her be?" a third man cut in, appearing next to them. "A pretty girl like her shouldn't be hanging around with drunkards like you!"

"Bugger off, Larry!" Eric shouted. "Go crawl back into the bottle from whence you came!"

"All of you, stop it!" Yet another man stepped into the scene. "How could a creature of such beauty even stand to stare at your ugly mugs?"

By this time, Lyn was sipping on her drink and enjoying herself immensely. She only had a vague clue of why they were fighting, but she knew it had something to do with her. She casually slipped out from among them and began to walk over to different part of the bar. Unexpectedly, an arm fell across her shoulders, causing her to stop and look over to him. "You up for a little game, missy?"

"Uh-huh," she nodded. "What kind of game?"

"Why, none other than pocket billiards, of course!" he shouted, pointing dramatically at the ceiling. "I am Sir Smith, the reigning champion!"

The first mate gave him a blank look, taking a long sip.

Sighing, the man crossed his arms and took a deep breath. "I'm Smith and I want you to play pool with me."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" she asked, glancing behind her and seeing that the men over by the bar were apparently too focused on their argument to realize that she had left. She followed Smith over to the other end of the tavern, where two pool tables rested near the wall. Eyes lighting up, she ran over to the rack of cues and stared at them, amazed at the different sizes and colors. She ran her fingers over the sticks of wood, wondering which one to choose.

"Shall we make the game a little interesting?"

"Oh?" She turned around to face her challenger. "How so?"

"Let's put a little wager on this," Smith said with a grin. "Loser pays for drinks?"

"Sounds good to me!" Lyn said brightly, grabbing a cue.

Smith's grin widened as he strolled over to the only available table. The balls were already set up, fifteen balls in a triangle at one end and the single cue ball at the other. The felt was surprisingly undamaged for being in a local bar, though she didn't really care. She hadn't played pool in ages, since way back on Alamentia when she hid out with some barmen for a whole week. The pool champion bowed deeply and gestured at the table, his cue pointed harmlessly at the ground. "Would you care to break?"

"Okay!" Lyn chirped, standing a few feet away from the table. Smith looked at her quizzically, but she paid him no heed. Unscrewing the shaft and holding the short length of wood in her left hand, she focused on the ball before her and took a deep breath. "Taco de Billar!"

She darted forward and struck the ball dead on, sending it careening towards the opposing triangle. The balls burst apart like angry hornets, scattering around the board. Lyn watched with delight as the balls rolled about, wondering whether she would get a solid one in first or a striped one. Somehow, none of the balls seemed to want to enter any pockets. Eventually, the 7 ball rolled in, followed by the 3, 13 and 6 balls. She turned around to see Smith staring at her like a goldfish, eyes bugging out and mouth gaping. She cocked her head and gave her radiant grin, looking quite pleased with herself. "Your turn!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Listen, boy. I think you're in the wrong bar."

Damien ignored the man and downed another mug of rum. "An' I think Ah'm in the righ' one. Fuck off."

"You've pissed off a lot of people."

"Yer pissin' me off righ' now," he retorted, slamming his mug down. "Barman, gimme another."

"Look, dick-" Here, the man placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to whirl him about. However, as the navigator was standing firmly on his feet (for the stool had collapsed when he had tried to sit down,) the bouncer merely pulled himself slightly forward. "What the hell?"

"Ah'm very tired an' I wanna fuckin' drink," Damien grumbled. "Fer starters, I ain' killed nobody. Second, I ain' fough' nobody. All I did was force me way thru th' crowd an' get sumthin' ta drink. Leave me th' fuck alone!"

The bouncer's response came loud and clear. The navigator's ears perked up as the sound of a revolver clicking echoed around the bar. Sighing heavily and turning about, he reclined on the bar and stared levelly at the gun pointed directly at his forehead. "C'mon. This 'ere's a once-in-a-life opp'rtunity. Ya gotcha gun pointed at me, butcha ain' dead. Countchyer blessin's."

"One," the bouncer warned.

Damien glanced at the gathering audience. "Fuckin' 'ell…"

"Two…"

"Do it!" a nearby patron cheered. "'Bout time something happened here!"

The cheers for his blood filled his ears and a burning feeling began to grow in his chest. _Shit, these people 'ave deathwishes_…

The bouncer pulled the trigger and sent the bullet hurtling towards his skull. He could have kept his neck muscles stiff and absorb the shock, but it was easier to tilt his head back at the last second and let the bullet bounce harmlessly off. He remained staring at the ceiling for a moment, then faced the crowd once more. Stunned silence greeted him as he bared his teeth menacingly and flicked out his talons. "Wassa ma'er? No cheers fer me magic trick? Diavolo Serpente!"

Quick as a flash, he threw his clawed hand out, piercing clean through the bouncer's weapon and arm. The man let out a cry of pain as he shot backwards, staring at his mutilated arm with shock. Damien yawned with boredom and shoved his way through the crowd and out of the bar. He was truly not in the mood for a fight at this point in time; he simply wanted a good, strong drink, maybe some meat to keep his head on straight. Well, as straight as it got with him. So by other people's standards, pretty crooked.

He searched his pocket for the money his captain had given him and frowned when he felt a hole at the bottom. Well, that was unfortunate. Looks like some poor bastard was just about to lose some of his money. First, he had to figure out what he wanted. His throat still felt a little parched, so he wandered into another bar that he hadn't attended before and looked around. Quickly locating the two people most likely to be provoked, he lumbered up to them and growled, "I challenge th' both a' yeh t'a drinkin' match."

"Fuck off, boy," the bigger one grumbled. "We're having a serious conversation here."

"Grog-swillin' pansies," Damien muttered. Still no response. Well, if they weren't going to rise to the bait with words… He grabbed both of their drinks with one swoop of his hand and downed them in one large gulp. Both men merely stared at him, then got up and walked over to the bartender for another drink. Frustrated, Damien clenched his hand so hard he shattered the handles of both mugs. His mind began to sink into madness as pain flared through his palm and blood began dripping to the ground. He stumped forward and threw a tight right hook, sending the man tumbling to the floor. "What th' fuck is yer deal?"

"I should be asking you the same question!" the downed man snapped, wiping blood from his split lip. "I haven't done anything to you, yet you insult me, steal my drink and punch me!"

Damien rumbled in irritation and exited the bar, walking through the wall and into an alleyway. What the fuck is with this city? Nobody acted in predictable ways. He was about to leap onto a rooftop and see what he could see from there when the sound of blows being exchanged reached his ears. He dashed down the alleyway and around the corner, spying a group of figures struggling with a single person. His lips curved into a demonic grin and he leapt forward, intent on finishing the group. That way, he could fight the obviously stronger lone figure. "Diavolo Toro!"

He bulled into one person, driving him into a nearby dumpster, dealt two more kicks that sent another two crashing through adjacent walls, sent a fourth man flying with a powerful uppercut, ripped a handful of organs out of a fifth and used them to blind a sixth, finishing him with a bone-crunching headbytt. The final man had whirled around and lunged forward, wildly waving his knife about, but Damien wasn't concerned. A searing breath of fire caused his opponent to fall to the ground, screaming loudly and clutching his flaming face. Ignoring the noises of pain emanating from the people around him, the navigator turned to the remaining person and grinned nastily. "I challenge ye t' a figh'!"

"Oh, thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!" came the response. Damien's mind slid to a jerking halt as he tried to process what had just happened. It was his experience that thanks were usually not given when being confronted by another fighter. Confused, he tried to focus on the person, but he saw nothing. He then realized that a pair of arms were around his neck and that somebody was whispering gratefully into his chest. Looking down, he saw a very relieved young woman hugging him tightly. The beginnings of a growl resonating in his chest, he pried the woman off of him with his functioning arm and held her aloft.

"Th' fuck d'ya want?" he rumbled.

"I was being attacked by those men and you saved me!" she cried, either unaware or unconcerned with the fact that she was hanging from the scruff of her jacket.

Damien frowned. "Didn' mean ta."

"But you did!" the woman pressed on. "What matters is that you did!"

Damien merely stared at her, completely clueless as to how he was supposed to proceed.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Alexander gave a light smile as he reclined in the comfortable red chair. Not five minutes after departing from the _Howling Knave_, he caught sight of a concert hall and had immediately headed towards hit. Upon arriving, he was informed that while seats were still available for the night's orchestral performance, the ticket price was slightly greater than the allowance given to him by his captain. The most immediate solution he saw was street performing, but that would seem undignified, especially if he were performing to attend another's musical performance. Thus, he settled on using his alchemy to get the extra money.

Still abiding by his own personal scruple not to turn anything into gold, he settled on acquiring a bouquet of roses and turning each flower into glass. When he was finished, he wandered back towards the concert hall and took up station at a street corner, beginning to peddle his new baubles. Unsurprisingly, the glass roses sold quite well (he received many complements on how delicate each petal looked and how long it must have taken to craft them) and he had just enough money to buy a ticket. Feeling a little shameful at using his alchemy for monetary gain, he reminded himself that nobody was being harmed by his actions and went inside.

The concert itself started not long after he seated himself. The room darkened and majestic crimson drapes drew away from the stage, revealing rank upon rank of musicians. Alexander grinned appreciatively as he gazed at the variety of instruments before him. Though he was primarily a brass player himself, as was evident by the trumpet on his lap, he did know a fair amount in other areas of music. He was especially looking forward to the mixture of sounds produced, for he had not heard a decent harmony in years. While his trumpet prowess was certainly part of the nightly ceremonies hosted back home, it was admittedly an out-of-place instrument. Brass did not blend well with skin-headed drums.

He felt his spirits lift as the drums provided a steady pulse, as if the room were some great being whose heart had commenced beating. High woodwinds shot brief notes into the air and Alexander could almost imagine neurons firing up and a brain awakening from a deep slumber. Indeed, the strings began playing a pair of notes slowly and steadily, sounding for all the world like inhalation and exhalation. More woodwinds joined in to provide more brain activity as the music began to gain consciousness. The brass chimed in, a long, drawn out note that almost seemed like a titanic yawn.

From there, the piece began relaying a first-person narrative about a man and his experiences throughout the day. He woke up, took a few hesitant steps, than began walking like a normal person. He strolled out the door and into the fresh air, listening to all the sounds around him. Alexander could practically see the nature around him, from the slow oboe deer and the proud cello trees to the flowing piccolo river and tinkling triangle butterflies. He was thoroughly enjoying listening to the instruments and painting his own mental picture using music, for it had been so long since he had done it.

However, his delight was not to last. The picture began to grow fuzzy and dim, as if he was recalling some faint memory and could not quite remember what had happened next. He frowned and scanned the orchestra, wondering what the trouble was. His eyes fell upon the 1st horn player, who looked nauseous. The musician eventually had to put down his instrument and stare at the floor, choosing not playing at all over playing the wrong notes. Unfortunately, this threw off the other horns slightly, as the piece had evidently been composed with a prominent altercation between the instrumentalists. Harmonies began seeming more forced as opposed to natural, which nagged at Alexander like a little voice in the back of his mind.

The piece seemed less lively and less full after that. Looking around, Alexander could only see a few other people who looked as uncomfortable as he did. Obviously, the difference was too slight to affect the general public, but other musicians had caught on swiftly. He was seriously tempted to leave, but then recalled the trouble he had gone to acquire his ticket. Maybe he would just stay until the intermission, where he could slip out without disrupting the performance.

The break seemed as if it would never come. When the lights finally brightened and the performers departed, Alexander blinked his eyes open once more and yawned widely. _So this is what Damien feels like when I forced him to sit through my practices back home_, he thought to himself, standing up and stretching. He sighed to himself as he slowly exited with the crowd. The piece just had so much potential to be ruined by a single instrument failure. He wandered over to the concession stand, fingering the few coins left in his pocket. If he was going to leave, he would do it with food in his stomach.

"Excuse me?" a voice piped up as he turned away with . "I was wondering if I could have a word with you?"

Alexander turned around, but realized the man wasn't talking to him. Shaking his head, he began to walk away. "Yes? What is it?" came the reply from the manager.

"Well, I couldn't help but notice that your horn player left and I was wondering if I could replace him."

The alchemist stopped in his tracks. _Well that was unexpected_. He turned around slightly, waiting to hear the manager's response.

"Can you play? Never mind; come with me and show me."

Alexander whirled about in time to see the pair retreating down a side hallway. Glancing furtively about, he stuck the rest of his kebab in his mouth, cast away the stick and followed them. He did his best to remain in the shadows, chewing slowly and listening to their conversation.

"How long have you been playing the horn, Mister…?"

"Jacques, sir. I have been playing for years now. I don't think I can do everything you want me to, but I can at least support the rest of the section and prevent the horns from falling out of place."

"Fascinating." The pair arrived at a small room, where the other musicians were drinking water and resting. "Well, good man, let's see what you've got."

Jacques picked up a nearby horn and prepared himself, rolling his head from side to side and flexing his fingers. He brought the instrument to his lips and, taking a deep breath, began to play. Alexander merely watched from the shadows, knowing that this man made the difference between a good performance and a great performance. After listening for a few measures, he had pretty much figured out what he needed to know. This man could certainly keep the horns afloat, but they wouldn't be able to do much else. He was torn between lending a hand and leaving. He had seen where the music could go and could imagine the rest, but he also felt compelled to let the audience hear the performance they deserved.

"Hey! You there! Do you have permission to be here?"

Alexander snapped out of his reverie to see that all eyes were on him. "No, I don't have permission to be here."

"Then kindly leave the premises!" the manager shouted. "The musicians need to recuperate and have no need for aspiring wet-behind-the-ears to be bothering them."

The pirate's eye twitched slightly. _Wet-behind-the-ears?_ He could take insults at his physical ability and usefulness, but questioning his musical talent, his major area of expertise? This was unacceptable. He had not practiced his instruments for hours each day since he could reach the keys on his piano so he could be considered mediocre. Clenching his teeth, he stormed over to Jacques and snatched the instrument from his grip. After wiping down the mouthpiece, he filled his chest with air and closed his eyes. _Come to me, spirits! I have need of thee!_

He began playing his first composition, the same song he had played before blowing Commodore Slatch across a room. He felt the spirits begin to swirl around him, readying their voices for his attack. If he could have grinned without disrupting his music, he would have. Instead, he played the entire piece through, nobody even thinking of stopping him. The deer, the forest, the hunter... They all came to life, flourished and died within the span of a few minutes. When he finished, he lowered the instrument and exhaled heavily. _Wet-behind-the-ears, eh?­_

He opened his eyes to see every person in the room staring at him in awe. He wasn't sure of whether they were more surprised at his music or the fact that the room fairly thrummed with all the spirits he had called. The room was silent for a moment, then everybody burst into applause. He let a smile crawl across his face as he mentally thanked the spirits and dismissed them. "So… would you mind letting me play instead?"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Raven perched on the flagpole protruding from the crow's nest, keeping her balance perfectly despite the swaying ship. She blended in flawlessly with the dark night sky, invisible to the naked eye. She took her turn on watch very seriously. She did not pass the time reading the tome of medical knowledge in the sickbay. Nor did she check the numerous vials of poisons and elixirs hidden on her person to see if they were running low, though she already knew that none of them were. No, the newest Black Glove Pirate was continually scanning the ship with her jet black eyes, carefully watching every little movement in and around the vicinity of the _Howling Knave_.

This was not to say that she didn't occupy herself somehow. But her task required little concentration: thinking about the ragtag band of pirates she had joined. They were by no means a conventional group, neither wholly Peace Maine nor Morgania (two terms Alexander had mentioned in passing.) Her previous definition of pirate did not match any of the current crew, including herself. So, even before she had joined the crew, she had been observing them and learning more about each individual.

Her immediate concerns were with the navigator, Damien. From behind, he looked deceptively less dangerous than he actually was. Sure, his scar-covered back might give people pause, particularly the gash down his back where his wings were stored to support his spine, but he was not particularly big and his muscles were toned yet lean. And if you couldn't sense the berserk bloodlust constantly emitting from him, he appeared almost normal. Of course, eye contact threw all previous assumptions out the window considering the animalistic fury he usually bore, but that was just who he was. And that is precisely what caused Raven to trust him the least: he was too unrestrained. She was never sure if he was going to attack an enemy or a crewmember. She had other things to do than to hover around him in case he snapped.

The musician, Alexander, was another concern, albeit a smaller one. He looked harmless no matter what angle you saw him from, which had obviously gotten him into more than one bit of trouble. The crew didn't need him attracting more problems than could be easily solved. Although the musician could defend himself to a limited extent, as he proved on Spring Isle, he still needed his crewmembers to bail him out once in a while. Another one Alexander's of foibles was a peculiar case of insubordination. True, he followed orders, but his advice was accompanied know-it-all attitude couldn't be good for Cassandra's self-esteem issues. The pirate captain had enough on her plate trying to figure out how to correctly lead the other four people without the musician devastating her mental health.

Lyn was a different case entirely. She was immensely supportive, eternally optimistic, and a decent fighter. Her moral compass was admittedly slightly skewed, but it still pointed her in the right direction in the end. She did have some strange quirks, such as her frequent partial to full nudity and her impulsive nature, but they merely contributed to her character. She was the glue that held the crew together in a strange sort of way, as nothing they did permanently phased her (and the crewmembers had done some pretty strange things. Upon reflection, it seemed like many of the actions in question had actually been orchestrated by the first mate.) In short, she was a fitting crewmember and appropriate as Cassandra's first mate.

Speaking of which… Raven still had a hard time actually thinking of Cassandra as a pirate. She had known her as an assassin for so long that thinking of her as anything else seemed bizarre and out of place. Granted, Cassandra's complete change appearance-wise certainly helped put the past behind them, but her personality hadn't changed in the slightest. She had confidence in her skills, a protectiveness with regards to her friends, a tendency to be a slightly sore loser and an immense disdain for authority. The latter lead to an interesting chain of command aboard the ship. Most of the time, her orders sounded more like recommended pieces of advice rather than actual commands. During battle she was authoritative, but in more relaxed settings she was friendly. Not that Raven had any problem with this. It was probably the best thing to do for the crew, for none of the crewmembers liked being ordered about. Anything more might have some unfavorable consequences, to say the least.

And finally, Raven thought about where she fit in to all this. She was obviously qualified to be the ship doctor, though this was hardly an uncommon trait. She was one of the best at assassinating people, which certainly helped her in battle. But she knew she didn't fit in socially. Her emotions were dulled to the point of non-existence and "bonding" as Lyn put it, was difficult to do for her. Not that such a trivial thing would cause her to leave the crew. She simply had to stay around because her friend asked her to. Calling Cassandra a friend always seemed unfair, as Raven could attach no more meaning to the term than she could 'enemy' or 'sister.' She simply didn't feel the same way Cassandra did, or feel anything at all for that matter. It was a little betrayal, but it always cast doubt about their relationship with one another.

So she thought about other ways to help the crew other than being comforting, which was Lyn's job anyway. Aside from keeping them alive, she could help them grow as fighters. She knew that Cassandra was already designing training techniques for herself, but the other three could benefit from some aid. Lyn's agility was useful, but her strength needed some fine tuning. Alexander was an entirely different story, as his battle style could only be improved on his own. Damien could actually help her as well, for she still had several techniques to develop. Maybe if he worked on his dodging ability…

Raven remained perched on the flagpole, thinking, always thinking.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Five minutes to midnight. Alpha, is your team good to go?"

"Roger. We have visual on Target One. We believe she suspects nothing, but we have a team surrounding her."

"Fantastic. Bravo, how about yours?"

"We got Target Two right where we want her. She's not going anywhere anytime soon."

"Noted. Charlie, check in."

"We found Target Three a while ago and he is in transit. Don't worry; he doesn't know we're here."

"Good, good. Delta?"

"Target Four located and we're ready for action."

"And to top it off, Echo?"

"Confirmations from the other four teams indicate that no crewmembers are aboard the ship. We are ready to proceed at your command, Zulu."

"Excellent. Four minutes to midnight, fellas. The clock strikes twelve and it's lights out for these poor saps."

* * *

Mostly to show the various hobbies of the crew, but also to set up the next mini-arc. See you next time.


	33. After Midnight

What is this, the thirty-third chapter? Something like that. Because I damn well feel like it, how bout a POV change for a bit?  


* * *

Absorbed in her thoughts was a term that could never be applied to Raven. She was never too absorbed to monitor her surroundings. This was why she immediately noticed the figures attempting to stealthily board the _Howling Knave_. She leapt off the flagpole and executed a neat forward flip, twisting in midair and always keeping her eyes on the people below her. Tapping her palms twice, she felt her waspknives slide out as she fell towards the offending party. She made sure to jump away from the island, keeping the black night sky at her back. They would never know what hit them. "Raakhat."

Kicking off of nothing, she changed direction in midair and darted around the group at superhuman speed. Slowing herself behind the final attacker, she stabbed her left hand into his back, causing all of his muscles to stiffen. She wove her way up to the leader, effortlessly dispatching people along the way. There were only three people left when the unconscious men began to audibly hit the deck. There were only two left when the attackers reacted enough to turn around and behold their downed comrades.

"Holy-!" came the surprised cry as one man began raising his wrist to his face. Catching sight of the Baby Den-Den Mushi on his arm, Raven sped over to him, slamming her waspknife into his chest and using it to turn around. Then, bracing herself against his body, she propelled herself at the final remaining man. He swung his sword at her with deadly accuracy, but Raven was better than he was. Far better. She twirled about to avoid the blade, landing behind him and driving both waspknives into his kidneys.

Four seconds after the last of the fifteen men had boarded the ship, fourteen were unconscious and one was dead. Raven put away her weapons and stared emotionlessly at her handiwork, her quick mind rapidly putting pieces of the puzzle together. Fifteen men was too exact a number for a random raid on a pirate ship and the snail on the man's wrist clearly denoted some sort of connections to a larger organization. Due to the relative ease in dispatching the boarders, it was evident that this was a less skilled group, tasked with the easier job of securing the ship. This probably meant that there were other groups who had located the four known Black Glove Pirates. Raven would check on them as soon as she was done with her current duty. She withdrew a silver knife from near her waist and went to work.

She pushed the dead man on top of the one she assumed was the leader and slit his throat, spraying blood all over the other man. When the leader woke up, all he would see was his comrade's blood all over him. If he was unskilled as she assumed him to be, the sight would rattle him enough to loosen his tongue and give her information. She leaned forward and pried open his mouth, searching for any poison pills or hollowed teeth. Sure enough, a small red pill was nestled between his cheek and lower gums near the back of his jaw. Pulling out a pair of tweezers from the pocket beside her knee, she reached inside and extracted the pill. Stashing the tweezers away, she split the pill in half with a strong squeeze and inhaled lightly, trusting her mouth cover to block out or neutralize any airborne chemicals. Cyanide. Another search inside his mouth revealed no other such device and a thorough scouring of his body revealed no other self-sabotaging trick.

Satisfied, Raven stood up and turned to look at the other thirteen men. They weren't necessary and could in fact be detrimental should they awaken and alert any others. Calmly walking over to each one, she crouched down and began slicing into major arteries and veins. Blood began painting red splashes across the deck, painting a horrific tableau on the wooden boards. After she was done dispatching the men, she turned back to the unconscious leader. The bloody murder was for his benefit after all. She would have preferred clean killings, lethal doses of poisons coursing through their systems, but that wouldn't severely damage his mental health. Walking over to him and crouching down again, she stabbed the bloody blade a finger's width to the side of his head and withdrew a small syringe. The miniscule amount of clear liquid inside was a powerful paralyzing agent without sedative properties, so he would awaken, but remain without control of his muscles. He would be forced to stare at the corpses of his allies until Raven relieved him of his misery. She uncapped the syringe and, tapping and squirting it to remove any excess air bubbles, injected the drug into his neck.

She straightened up and walked over to the railing looking out to the port city. She had little idea of where the crew was, for she was still not accustomed to their leisure activities in cities. She did, however, have a good guess as to where her captain had gone. Leaving the ship unguarded seemed like a safe idea, for she knew that the group still believed that the ship was secured. Raven leapt into the air and kicked hard, boosting herself onto a nearby rooftop and leaving only the tiniest wisp of condensed air in her wake. From there, she began moving at an accelerated pace, swiftly covering the distance between the ship and the _Hidden Mantis_. Her movements remained in the visible spectrum, however, for her endurance was still fairly low and she could not sustain her top speed for too long.

She reached the _Hidden Mantis_ in a few short minutes and was forced to pause on the smokeless chimney to catch her breath. After slowing her breathing to a respectable rhythm, she hopped off the building and, to reduce her falling speed, kicked off midair just as she was about to hit the ground. Alighting noiselessly on the granite steps, she walked casually inside and down the torch-lit corridor. She readied herself by flicking out her waspknives, prepared to aid her captain at a moment's notice.

But when she reached the end of the hallway, the door was ajar. This was strictly against protocol, something that needed to be checked out immediately. She squeezed her way through the thick metal door and nearly tripped over the bouncer sprawled against the doorway. She noticed that his right eye seemed to have turned around and tunneled deep into his head, leaving a bloody hole in its path. Guessing the cause of this particular wound, she turned around and stared at the scene before her.

The room was in chaos. Every single person had his or her weapon drawn and pointed at the middle of the room. The chairs, tables and stools in that particular area seemed to have been hurled against the walls, leaving a broad expanse of empty space. Well, not entirely empty. A quick count revealed twenty nine bodies littering the ground, almost all of them unmoving. A lone figure stood in the middle of the patch, hoisting another aloft and holding a pistol to its mouth. Raven blinked as she recognized the woman in the middle. Moving faster than the average eye could see and landing lightly, she murmured, "It would seem that you were attacked as well."

"You think?" Cassandra grumbled, clearly not amused with the situation. "Now listen, you spineless pig, I want the name and location of your employer!"

The man could only offer helpless grunts of pain, trying his best to restrain his flow of tears. Raven quickly scanned him, seeing that both of his kneecaps had been shot clean through and that only the pirate captain's grip on his neck prevented him from crumbling to the floor. "You know that in order to talk, he must be both conscious and able to use his mouth."

Kneeing the man in the groin and letting him fall to the ground, Cassandra rounded on the smaller woman. "I know that very well, Raven. Now tell me, why are you away from the ship?" Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath to calm herself, the pirate captain held up her hand to forestall Raven's explanation. "Never mind; I can figure it out for myself. The question is, who is behind it?"

"I have a prisoner sedated and paralyzed back aboard the ship," Raven provided. "He is presumably of a lower rank and as such would be easier to interrogate. The psychological damage already inflicted upon him will be a much greater motivation than simple pain."

"Finally, a bit of good news," Cassandra muttered, aiming her pistol at the man's forehead and pulling the trigger. "A merciful death is more than this scum deserves."

"What happened?" Raven asked. "Are you injured?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "You know better than to ask me that."

Raven merely stared up at her.

"And I was merely checking in with our mutual acquaintances, you know, catching up on family affairs, when the clock strikes twelve and all hell breaks loose. About half the mercs in the room get up and rush me four at a time. I barely had enough time to draw my pistols before they were upon me. If not for Hikemi, I'd be a lot worse off than I am now."

"And where is she?" Raven asked.

"Decorating the place," Cassandra responded, gesturing at the body sprawled across the floor.

"You show little sadness for her passing," Raven observed.

"I never liked her that much," Cassandra said casually. "Plus, the only reason she helped me is that she jumped the gun and attacked me slightly before everybody else did. Thanks to her, I had my weapons out in time."

Raven gazed around once more. "Be thankful we are not in a more legal establishment. You might not have been able to handle any additional enemies."

"Yeah, mercenaries and assassins have never really put their necks on the block unless they were getting paid," Cassandra commented, watching as the room had already resumed its normal bustle and chatter as if nothing had happened. "I'll stay here for a bit to tie up a few loose ends. You start with the snail on that guy's wrist."

Catching sight of the small communication device, Raven crouched over and stashed it in one of her countless pockets. She turned to leave, but had one last question for her captain. "And what of the bouncer?"

Cassandra holstered her pistol and scratched her cheek. "Well, he obviously wasn't a very good doorguard if he let an entire group in and stood by when they attacked." Raven accepted that answer and began to depart. "And could you round up the crew for me? Don't guide them back to the ship or anything; just tell them I want them to go back. After you're done, go back to guarding the ship."

"As you wish. _Akat_." Raven put on a short burst of speed, making it appear as if she had simply vanished into thin air. Resuming her normal pace, she exited the building and propelled herself up to a nearby rooftop. She crouched on the corner of the building, practically disguising herself as a gargoyle, and plotted her movements from there. Her first thought was Lyn. She would definitely be the first pirate to check out and would require the little effort to convince to return to the ship. Alexander was her second concern, as she was slightly dubious about his combat abilities if taken by surprise. Finding him wouldn't be too difficult; while en route to Cassandra, she had spied a woman leaving an establishment of music wearing a glass flower too detailed for it to have been crafted. Damien was certainly alive and, judging by the flames rising in the distance, by far the easiest to locate. She would save him for last.

She began running from rooftop to rooftop, taking care not to pass in front of anything bright and possibly alert anybody of her presence. Making her way deeper and deeper into the city, she found that merely hopping across the narrow streets was not going to cut it any more. She was forced to resort to using both her extreme speed and midair jumping to cross across the wider boulevards, remaining invisible to those below her.

Her attention was drawn by a particularly large group of people scattered in a nearby alley. She halted her momentum above the narrow passageway and hovered for a moment. She then let gravity take over, again slowing her descent just before hitting the ground. Alighting noiselessly on the rough cobblestones, she stooped over and stared at the bodies, carefully analyzing them. _None of them are dead. Most are unconscious due to blows to the head, neck and torso, though a couple are bleeding from deep parallel lacerations. This was most likely a bar fight._ She was about to leave when she caught sight of a man sprawled out on the ground, his wrist covered in a familiar snail-bearing band. Raven blinked at this. _It looks like I have found her. These wounds are all non-lethal, even the slashes. However, these contusions look too big to be caused by her hand._

She withdrew her poisoned waspknife and began methodically ending the mercenaries' lives. Pausing only to cut the snail off of the leader's wrist, she pocketed the device and walked into the open street. Looking around, she realized that she was directly between a residential apartment complex and a local tavern. The choice was obvious. She strolled into the pub and was immediately spied by the bartender. Shaking a dirty rag he had been using to clean out a mug at her, he shouted, "Oi! Kids aren't allowed in the bar! 'Specially during happy hour!"

Raven ignored him and looked around, searching for Lyn. The first mate was not difficult to locate. She was reclining on a billiards table in a pose that would have looked seductive on any other woman, but looked merely playful on her. She was resting between a rather buxom woman and a short, stout man, her left arm draped over the former and her right arm bringing a strange pink drink to her lips. Raven shot over to her, shimmering back into the visible spectrum on the table beside her. But before the petite doctor could speak, Lyn's electric blue eyes brightened and her grin widened. "There you are, Raven! I was lookin' aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall over for you!"

"How did you defeat the mercenaries sent to capture you?" Raven inquired, mentally noting of the curious looks cast in her direction. "And are you injured?"

"Wasn't me!" Lyn chirped. "I didn't even touch 'em! They came in here, rambling about seizing me or something, but my new friends didn' like that! So they pound on them a bit and chuck 'em out the back door! It was awesome!"

Her legion of followers gave pleased grins, which quickly vanished when Raven's gaze fell upon them. "You have the thanks of the Black Glove Pirates for protecting their first mate. However, I would like to know exactly why you chose to defend her."

"And why should we tell you, girlie?" the stout man said.

"Of the fifteen men that attacked me, do you know how many are still alive?" she asked.

The men shrugged, nonplussed.

"Zero." Raven let this settle in for a moment. "And of the twenty five men that attacked Lyn, do you know how many are still alive?"

"All of 'em," a nearby patron stated.

Raven's stare flicked over to him. "Zero."

"That's not true!" the man shouted. "We roughed 'em up a bit, but we didn't kill 'em!"

"That is true," Raven conceded. She waited as the people around her looked at each other in confusion. Finally, a few wove their way through the crowd and vanished through the back door. They reappeared a few moments later, looking slightly shaken. Everybody stared at him for a moment, than took one collective step away from Raven.

Lyn, who hadn't moved, looked around in confusion. "Whassa matter?"

"They are merely shocked that I am capable of such things," Raven responded.

"Well of course you are!" Lyn shouted. "You can take out Damien, who took out what's-his-name, the big dude on Summer Isle!"

"Darren Madaxe," Raven murmured, causing everybody to take another step away from her. "Now, I will ask you once more and only once more. Why did you choose to defend Lyn?"

"She's hot," one of the men answered, followed by muttered agreements.

"She's fun," said another.

"Her eyes are amazing."

"She's always cheerful."

"Her boobs are incredible."

"She asked us to."

"She-"

"Enough," Raven droned, causing everybody to immediately fall silent. "Lyn, Cassandra wants you back at the ship."

"Okay!" Lyn said brightly, hopping off of the table. "But I have to say goodbye to everybody first!"

What Raven expected was that Lyn would run around, thanking the various people and bidding them farewell. What Raven did not expect was for Lyn to go up to a man and kiss him on the cheek. "Bye Stuart!"

She went up to another man and kissed him as well. "Bye Eric!"

And another. "Bye Salman!"

"Bye Christina!" When Lyn went in for the kiss, the other woman turned her head slightly, catching the first mate's lips with her own. Hoots and catcalls bubbled up from the crowd as the pair remained in that position for a moment. Lyn finally pulled away, her mouth still in a wide grin. She then resumed her routine of walking up to various people and kissing them on the cheek. When Lyn reached the first man again and began another round of good-byes, Raven decided it was time to leave.

_And now to find Alexander_, she thought as she landed on the roof of the bar. She sped off back in the direction of the harbor, moving slightly more quickly now despite her tiring muscles. She had no idea how long the musician would remain at his previous location and tracking him afterwards might be difficult. She had to find him before he hurt himself. On that note, she also wondered whether he was still alive or not, but that had more to do with curiosity than urgency.

When she arrived at the concert hall, she caught sight of a peculiar scene in the plaza below her. People appeared to be clawing their way out of the ground, crying out in pain and frustration. She jumped into the air and landed neatly beside the closest one, examining the trapped man. He was completely encased in rock, save for his head and right arm. Raven chose to ignore his sobbing and inspect her footing instead. It looked like a pond had frozen over in an instant, which the doctor supposed was close enough to what had actually happened. Standing up straight and staring about, she took a mental head count of the victims immersed in the water-turned-rock.

_Seventeen­_. This was an odd number, both literally and significantly. This group seemed to operate in multiples of five, so such a number seemed illogical. She scanned her surroundings, looking for the rest of the group. She sighted another few people slumped against a building at the far end of the plaza and almost went over to investigate, but she realized that all of the mercenaries were still alive. She extended her poisoned waspknife and concentrated hard. "Raakhat."

Not two seconds later, she was studying the remaining three bodies, the air mercifully devoid of the cries of trapped men. The three remaining men were all unconscious and sported rather large bruises on one side of their bodies, indicating that had probably been slammed into the building by his trumpet attack. After ending their lives as well, she fetched a lamp from a nearby porch and withdrew a small scalpel. She had little interest on his outside appearance or the sterility of the autopsy she was about to perform. No, Raven was curious as to how exactly Alexander's sound attack affected living beings.

Making an incision was the easy part. Cutting open the man's chest cavity using only a scalpel proved to be significantly harder. Ignoring the blood spurting onto her midnight-black outfit and the horrified stares of passersby, she managed to remove his chest plate and place it aside. Lifting the lamp to give herself a better view of his internal organs, she gently removed each one and inspected it. _The effect is the same for all of them_, she thought to herself, slicing off a small sample of tissue and slipping it in a tiny vial. _Every organ is softer than it should be. This merits more investigation_. She brought the lantern closer and, after cleaning off the scalpel, placed the medical tool beside the man's ear, allowing the fire to reflect off the blade and illuminate his auditory canal. It was poor lighting and the angle was rather awkward, but after carving out obstructive pieces of cartilage, she saw what she wanted to see. _His tympanic membrane is slightly perforated. I can only assume that his inner ear must suffer from the attack._

Standing up turning back to the plaza, she remembered that she was supposed to be locating her fellow pirate. Thankfully, the portly man was quite easy to locate despite the time elapsed since midnight. He was still reclined on the steps of the concert hall, the lights behind him reflecting off of his trumpet. He barely batted an eye as she appeared directly in front of him, not moving his hand away from his mouth. "Good to see you again, Raven. Aren't you supposed to be guarding the ship?"

"Complications have arisen," she deadpanned. "Are you injured?"

"Uh…" Alexander groaned, sitting up and stretching his arms out. "I've been beaten about somewhat… split lip… cut on the leg… " he gestured to a lightly bleeding wound on his right thigh. "Head hurts… Not much else."

"I am impressed," Raven droned, withdrawing a roll of bandages.

"No, you're not," Alexander retorted. "You don't have emotions."

Raven paused. "I did not expect you to be alive. How did you manage to handle twenty mercenaries?"

"Well, when I left the building, these men were standing around me in a semi-circle. I got most of them by turning the ground to water and back to stone, but three managed to escape. I nailed two of them with my trumpet and was assaulted by the third. I fended him off for a bit, but managed to subdue him. Barely. After that, I slung him with the other two and rested here until you showed up."

"You surpass my expectations yet again," Raven stated, removing his glasses and peering into his eyes.

"That's nice to know: you think I'm some useless fart who is extra weight for the crew. Well, I've got news for you, Raven, I'm not. I might not fight as well as Damien or Captain, but I can defend myself if necessary. Sometimes, I can understand why Hothead is so irritated with you."

The doctor merely stared at him, waiting for him to finish his tirade.

He eventually sighed and shook his head, rubbing his gloved hand through his jet-black hair. "Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm just tired from having to play half a symphony then running into a bunch of psychopaths trying to kill me. I prefer the two psychos I know over random ones, thank you very much."

The doctor realized that he was referring to her and Damien. "You have gotten over your fear of me quickly."

"That I have," Alexander breathed. "Then again, you and Damien are pretty much the same. You're actually much more reasonable, so that's mildly comforting. You won't kill me unless Cassandra ordered it."

"I doubt she ever would," Raven murmured, noticing his light, jesting tone. "And what is that in your hand?"

Alexander stared at the pink silk handkerchief in his fist. "Oh, this? Some lady gave it to me after I finished dealing with them."

As he extended it to allow her to treat his bleeding lip, a small scrap of paper fell out from its folds. Alexander casually picked it up and read it, before stashing it inside his coat pocket. "What is it?" Raven repeated.

"Den-Den Mushi number," Alexander responded. "Fantastic. I'm obliged to call her now." Prodding the gel she had placed on his lip, he stood up and winced slightly. "Well, tonight was great and all, but I'm gonna head back to the ship." He began to limp down the steps, but halted and glanced back. "Why'd you come to me anyway?"

"To treat any wounds you might have and to relay Cassandra's orders to go back to the ship," Raven answered. "And take these with you."

Alexander caught one of the Baby Den-Den Mushis thrown at him, but due to the trumpet in his other hand, completely missed the other two. "What are these?"

"How the mercenaries communicating with each other. One is from the group that attacked you, one is from the group that attacked Lyn and one from the group that attacked Cassandra. Take care of them; we might need them later."

"Wait, how'd you find me?" he asked as she began to leave.

"Glass roses gave away your position and your broken leg severely restricts your mobility. Farewell, Alexander. _Akat_."

She put on a burst of speed, disappearing from his field of view completely. Landing on the concert hall roof, she watched as he merely turned and began slowly limping back to the ship, unavoidably encountering the corpses stuck in the ground. He bent over and stared at one, gently poking it with his finger. Letting his chin drop to his chest as he sighed, he put his hand on the ground and whispered something. For a moment, nothing happened. But soon, a wide pool appeared in the ground, allowing the bodies to sink out of sight. He waited until the water was calm once more before turning the ground back into stone. _How pointlessly considerate of him, sparing the bystanders from looking at corpses_, the doctor thought to herself.

Raven ascended to the topmost spire on the building and perched on it, viewing her surroundings. Her eyes fell upon a thick column of smoke off climbing steadily into the air off to her right. She began moving in that direction, knowing that that was probably where the berserk navigator had gone. This time, she allowed herself to travel at a much more comfortable pace. If her assumptions were correct, and they rarely weren't, Damien could only have left a trail a blind man could follow.

Sure enough, when she reached the site of the fire, she could see the slaughter the navigator had inflicted. She touched down at the edge of the blood pool, noting that there were no witnesses in sight. She began walking forward, listening to the _splish splish_ of her footsteps in the thick crimson liquid. Letting her eyes rove over the scene, she slowly began counting the number of people who had attacked him. This was no easy task, for several of the bodies were in multiple pieces and some were so saturated in blood that they blended in with the ground.

When she finished counting all thirty men and retrieved the communication device from a severed wrist, she noticed something odd. A short distance away from the slaughter was a peculiar indentation in the ground. Further investigation revealed that it was a series of grooves, scored into the cobblestones. She recognized this as Damien's method of traveling quickly: bounding forward on all fours. Well, his three functioning limbs anyway. The depression off to the side was evidence that his left arm had been dragged along due to its dead weight. He must have been chasing something despite his injuries, if the lines of blood around the gouges were any indication.

She found his target not far from her location. Crouching down, she eyed the body analytically. This woman sported four deep gashes on her back, probably where he had lunged forward and disabled her with a powerful slash. Raven's nose picked up the scent of cooked meat, which was peculiar considering that aside from the cuts, she was outwardly unharmed. Picking up a knife from a nearby body and slashing the woman's torso open, her suspicious were confirmed. The woman's insides had been incinerated.

Standing up and discarding the knife, she began running along the trail of debris and flames he had left in his wake. He had gone down the street for a while, but had turned to a house for some reason and bulled right through the wall. Seeing that the house was now a blazing inferno, Raven put on a burst of speed, emerging from the flames unscathed. His path took him through several more houses, each burning less than the previous one. She eventually reached him, charging through into another building with his body ablaze. He reared back and inhaled, filling his chest with air. Then, throwing his torso forward, he let loose a mighty blast of fire, lighting up the room. He paused for a moment, breathing heavily, then turned slightly in her direction. "Th' fuck you want?"

"You have killed thirty five mercenaries and twelve civilians," she responded. "Are you injured?"

"Ah c'n 'andle it," he growled, turning away from her. "Fuck off an' lemme be."

She flitted to his side, staring at the wounds covering his body. "Regardless of how strong you think you are, you need medical attention."

"'M fine," he grumbled, smashing another wall out of his way.

"You are never fine," Raven murmured. "However, what prompted you to kill the first woman?"

He swiveled around to face her, his green eyes filled with ire and… weariness? "Yer notta shrink. Go bug sumbody else."

"Answer my question and I will alleviate some of your pain," Raven told him.

"Whatta bitch…" He slowly shook his thick dreadlocks. "Don' need yer brew t' make me feel be'er."

"You chased her down. This was obviously not an innocent bystander."

"Yer not me fuckin' mum. Go give sum other fuck th' third degree."

The petite doctor moved in front of him, blocking his path. "Answer my question and I promise you to a duel sometime in the near future."

The berserk pirate halted, evidently thinking over this new proposal. His face gave his answer in the form of a heinous smile as he made his decision. "Ah accident'lly saved 'er life an' she's gonna repay me. Then those grog-guzzlin' cockbags show up an' Ah deal with 'em. When I go back ta her, she says 'Bestiality's a sin.' Now when d'we get ta figh'?"

"Later, when you are not as injured." Raven pondered his reasoning for a moment before asking, "What is bestiality?"

Damien lumbered past her, a snarl growing on his face. "Fuckin' beasts."

_How helpful_. "What about beasts?"

"'Umans fuckin' beasts!" he roared, demolishing the dining room they were in with a searing breath of fire.

"That makes no sense," Raven commented. "You may act like a beast and your physiological structure is unnatural, but you are human. You are merely psychotic, deranged and feel most calmed by acts of extreme violence or carnage."

"An' yer an inces'-bred 'arlot," he responded. "Now fuck off."

"Akat." Having finished finding and analyzing his wounds, Raven withdrew a roll of bandages and a pair of tweezers. In just under a minute, she had removed every bullet from his body that could easily be accessed and wrapped his limbs and torso in a cocoon of cloth. She appeared back in the visible spectrum, her roll used up and her tweezers red. "And if you must consume humans, avoid the stomach and intestines. Eat the liver and heart instead."

Damien scratched at his already-crimson bandages, unconcerned of her knowledge of his cannibalism. "Don' expec' me t'be nice to ya in return."

"I am not being nice," Raven informed him. "Keeping you alive are Captain's orders. The moment you are out of Cassandra's care, I will kill you. Even in Cassandra's care, if you ever pose a threat to her, I will kill you."

"Th' same t' you, 'ore," he said with a feral grin, beginning to walk away. "Sir'sly, fuck off afore I use yer guts fer garters an' yer brain fer dec'ration."

"Go back to the ship," she droned. "I have managed to slow your bleeding but you need actual medical attention and I am not following you as you rampage about."

His only response was his middle finger outlined against the burning house.

Raven gazed after him, thinking hard. _He is destructive by nature, which always gets him into fights. But he is most dangerous to his surroundings when his aggression has no target. Having eliminated Darren Madaxe robbed him of his previous focus. However, he does seem to be calming down. Perhaps he is most docile when he has no viable rival and no reason to lay waste to everything around him_…

The black-clad pirate began running back to the ship, her mind racing as fast as her feet. She had to interrogate the man on the ship, research a hangover cure for Lyn, analyze the tissue from Alexander's victims and prepare the medical ward for Damien's arrival. There truly was no rest for a pirate doctor.

* * *

She may be an emotionless woman, but Raven sure is fun to write about. See ya next time.


	34. Hysteria

And here is another chapter of the Black Glove Pirates. This chapter follows a slightly different vein than the others before it, having returned to the captain's point of view, but bear with it.  


* * *

_Breathing in, I remember my actions  
I have killed, yet I am not at fault  
Assassins are tools wielded by those with power  
Assassins are tools with handles of money  
But I know that my actions are my own  
And I accept responsibility  
Breathing out, I forgive me my sins  
Hedges must be trimmed lest they grow rampant  
Martyrs and maggots must perish  
Intent is not important  
Motivation is not important  
The deed is important  
Death is inevitable  
And I bring it  
Breathing in, I remember my actions  
I have killed, yet-_

The pirate captain's meditation was completely ruined as Raven entered the women's quarter, not bothering to close the door behind her. "What are you doing?"

"Do you know that I had received exactly ninety six assassination requests before I became a pirate?" Cassandra said listlessly, lying on her bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. "And of those, my father ensured that forty eight targets, exactly half of them, were assigned to my family from the Gorousei themselves?"

Raven remained silent.

"This was to solidify my faith and loyalty to the World Government, faith that it would do the right thing. I was supposed to believe that the targets were no concern of mine and that the reasons for doing so were for peace. The other half were requested from spoiled nobles were simply to let the nature of backstabbing politics run its course. When one of their requests upset the balance too much, the World Government would have another kill just ready to be sprung.

"But as much as I was trained to trust the World Government, my mother made sure I was not too trustful. I was to be like a poisonous spider, crawling about inside their buildings, familiarizing myself with their methods and trickeries, learning as much as I could before completing my assassination. Of course, she mysteriously went missing, but that was irrelevant at the time. In retrospect, it might have had some influence on my decision to abandon the world of assassins and emerge into the sunlight."

Raven was silent for a little while longer before she began to speak. "The deck was cleaned, the bodies are gone and the mercenary I intended to interrogate is locked in the stern supply room. Based on your previous comments and the fist-shaped contusions covering his face that were not present when I left, you have found out their employer: the World Government. I am surprised a man of his rank knows such information. I only expected to get the location of his base of operations."

"I got the name of commander, which was enough," Cassandra groaned, intertwining her fingers and wedging them beneath her head. "He told me he worked for a man nicknamed Echo, which reveals he's part of those scumbags, the Otan Mercenaries. Did you ever operate extensively in West Blue?"

"No. I was stationed in North Blue for the majority of my life."

"Well, the only employer of the Otan Mercs is the World Government," Cassandra sighed. "They got roped into it when the WG took complete control of the world a few decades ago, but they're paid extra to keep their business selective and to operate efficiently. The men sent out for us were surprisingly weak, the lowest ranks apparently. Oh, speaking of which, how are the others?"

"Lyn did not participate in battle, Alexander managed to subdue his opponents with only minor injuries and Damien has endured his usual amount of damage," Raven listed. "They are returning as we speak."

"Good, good…" Cassandra trailed off. "Nice to know they can handle themselves. But as I was saying, they severely underestimated us, which is puzzling since there were hundreds, thousands, if not tens of thousands watching as we killed Madaxe and his crew. Granted, he was only the son of a Shichibukai, which holds no bearing for his combat abilities, merely his rank, but that should still count for something, right? I mean, the Otan Mercs are known to have flawless teamwork, yet even a school of minnows cannot hope to take down a Sea King."

"You are rambling," Raven stated. "You need to calm down or you will lose perspective of the situation and control over yourself."

It became immediately apparent to the smaller woman that this had not been the right thing to say. "Calm down? Perspective and control?! Raven, you still don't realize what this means, do you? I have the World Government after me! They own the _entire_ world! All of it! I knew that pirates were wanted, but I had completely forgotten that they were detested by almost every nation on the planet! There is no refuge for pirates, regardless of how many there are roaming the seas!"

"Cassandra, listen-"

"No, you listen!" The fact that she was suddenly looming over the petite doctor barely registered in her mind. "Every single damn island will be on the lookout for us! Every single one has connections to the World Government in some way, shape or form! Remember that idealized version Alexander spouted en route to Spring Isle? Bullshit, all of it! He doesn't know how deep the WG has dug its claws into every single nation with any military force or source of wealth! There is nowhere we will be able to run to! Especially if you consider the fact that at this rate, there is no possible way we will avoid getting bounties. Oh, Mors, when that happens, not only will the most powerful governing entity the world has yet to match be after us, but every piece of shit bounty hunter, pirate and starving man desperate for money will pour from every corner of the earth to fight and capture us!"

"You are overreacting."

"Oh yeah? Name me one, _one_ place where pirates can hide without fear of being pursued, especially with bounties on their heads!"

"Were there not pirates on Summer Isle?"

Cassandra gave a humorless chortle, stepping back and spreading her arms wide. "Summer Isle? Why thank you, Raven, I completely forgot about that particular island, because we definitely didn't spend a week there where I was almost killed by an old woman, a bounty holder and my own psychotic navigator. I must have conveniently had amnesia during those few days, right? That island is practically the fishing hook for pirates in West Blue with rumors for safety and shelter as bait! Do you know how many of the Shichibukai have family, friends or subordinates on that miserable rock? Five of them! Five out of seven government dogs have connections with Summer Isle! Pirates in West Blue swarm there thinking that it's their haven and end up being monitored and released if they're deemed not dangerous enough to be a threat!

"This isn't the First Great Age of Piracy or the Age of Dreams! This is the Second Age and what an ironic name it has! The only reason it has that name is because pirates _exist_ on the seas! They don't control it and they sure as shit aren't held in high opinions! Pirates used to be a symbol of freedom, adventure! Now they're rebels and hoodlums, people who think they can defy the entire world!"

"Then why did you become one?"

"Why did I become one?" Cassandra shouted. "Because that's what I wanted to do: rebel against the scum that wanted me to become an emotionless bitch with no friends and a love of killing! I rebelled, but rebellions don't always work! Remember Monkey D. Dragon? Remember General Itote? Rebel leaders, executed after their worldwide revolutions didn't work! So what if they were on a much more grand scale; it makes the situation worse for me! If men who led entire armies were quashed, how could a lone woman and her ragtag crew of four pirates stand up to such a force?"

"By not having panic attacks," Raven provided.

"You know what?" Cassandra yelled. "Screw you, Raven! There is no possible way I can be calm when-"

_Wham!_ The pirate captain found herself sprawled against her bed, staring up at her musician in amazement. "Get ahold of yourself, Captain! There is no reason to be yelling in such a manner."

"The hell there isn't!" She was not going to be deterred from her argument, no matter how much her jaw hurt. "How much of the conversation did you hear?"

"I came aboard the ship when you were shouting about pirates as symbols of freedom," Alexander responded, flexing the gloved hand he had used to punch his captain.

"Okay, let me fill you in: we have the World Government after our asses along with the pirates from Summer Isle. The entire World Government! No matter where we go, no matter where we hide, we won't be able to escape-"

"Hide?" Alexander cut in. "None of the Black Glove Pirates would even dream of hiding from their enemies, myself included. I might not like to fight, but-"

"I don't think you understand, Alexander!" Cassandra was on her feet once more. "We have the entire World Government after us! That's over two hundred nations that are willing to lure us in, capture us and imprison us without a second thought! That's hundreds or thousands of organizations willing to turn us in! If we get bounties, that means virtually every person on this planet would turn us in for the reward, regardless of how much of a fight we put up! How many average soldiers can you handle at once? Ten, twenty, fifty? These numbers don't compare to thousands, tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people who would die for a chance to claim our heads!"

"You are exaggerating-"

"Maybe I am! But what if you met a single person as powerful as Damien or as skilled as Raven, never mind ten of them? You would be dead before you knew it! Remember that while our pair are admirable fighters, far better than the rest of us, there are countless people much, much better than they are. All we need is one of those other people to attack us and it's bye-bye Black Glove Pirates!"

"Are you forgetting why we joined you?" Alexander cut in, his voice growing louder as he spoke. "We serve you, Captain Cassandra Negras! Lyn joined you because a caged bird needs to be set free. You liberated her! Damien joined you because the lone wolf will inevitably perish. You accepted him! I joined you because a man with no goal is not a man. You motivated me!"

"I joined you because darkness can only be banished by light," Raven murmured.

"You see?" Alexander asked, nodding gratefully in the doctor's direction. "All of us are willing to fight, come hell or high heaven, and we will make it through, no matter the obstacles!"

"Get real!" Cassandra screamed. "There are some things that cannot simply be overcome with willpower and determination!"

Alexander fell silent for a moment, before continuing on in a normal tone. "What happened? What happened to the woman who, when ridiculed and threatened by the son of a Shichibukai, remained calm and collected, believing wholeheartedly in herself and her crew?"

"I knew that we could handle them!" Cassandra informed him. "We cannot handle an omnipresent world superpower that has a habit of erasing anything it desires!"

"And what of your desire, Captain?" Alexander asked. "What happened to the woman who vowed she would become the First Queen of the Pirates?"

"She matured! She grew up! She realized that dreams in this era are impossible!"

Alexander stared at her, then pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger and turned on his heel. "Then you are no longer the woman I would follow to the ends of the earth."

Cassandra stared after his retreating form, her mouth working furiously. She watched as he paused by Raven, leaning over to whisper something in her ear, then exited the room. "And what about you, you filthy stinking hypocrite! You said that a crewmember follows their captain, no matter the situation!"

"Don't you dare turn this on me!" Alexander said sharply, whirling about in the doorway to point emphatically at her. "You are the one who grew up, remember? There are four people I would lay down my life for without a second thought: Damien, Lyn, Raven and Cassandra Negras, the one who would have been Pirate Queen. The so-called matured woman before me is but a shell of her former self and is not fit to command herself, let alone a crew."

"Fine!" Cassandra shouted, picking up a nearby book and heaving it at him. "I don't need you! I don't need anybody! Run away, sea rat, run away and may Mors take your soul- ungh!"

She convulsed slightly, a tight feeling spreading throughout her chest. She looked down to see Raven with her hand planted underneath the pirate captain's breasts, her waspknive nestled between two ribs. The pirate captain gave a small smirk, feeling her limbs become lead and her head bow slightly. "So this is how it ends, Raven. A life taken for a life saved."

The doctor did not look up to meet her gaze. "Sleep well, Cassandra."

Cassandra closed her eyes, letting darkness overcome her senses.

"_You are an embarrassment to your family and your kind. Your actions are inexcusable. Clearly, you do not understand our creed and way of life. Henceforth, you are stripped of your title and your rank. You are banished from the family and rendered worthless in our eyes. Leave now and forever bear our shame."_

_I'm worthless!_

"_We will pray for your soul, may it rest in peace…"_

_I'm unsavable!_

"_You see, foolish mortal? You cannot hope to contend with me!"_

_I'm weak!_

"_Well, in piratin', you either respec' yer elders n' betters, or yore dead."_

_I'm pathetic!_

"_I offer a substantial reward to whomever is able to deliver her alive and breathing at my doorstep! You may do whatever you want with her so long as she arrives in one piece! Beat her, humiliate her, violate her! It matters not to me, but be creative! The reward will be whatever you like, just deliver her to me!"_

_I'm hated!_

"_You're worthless trash! You can't even control your own crewmate!"_

_Help me! Please, somebody help me!_

The next thing Cassandra knew, she was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling once more. She frowned and rolled her head from side to side, wondering what was going on. Her head ached severely and her facial muscles felt as if they had been clenched for ages. Bits and pieces of what had happened filtered back into her mind, causing her breath to catch in her chest. _Was it all a dream? Please, let it have been a dream…_

She slowly sat up and swung her legs over the edge of her bed, resting her elbows on her knees and placing her head in her hands. She remained in that position for a while, breathing slowly and deeply, then worked up the courage to put her fingers to her chest. Her heart sank when she felt the round hole in her shirt, indicating that Raven had indeed stabbed her and it had been real. She scrunched up her face in a tight wince, squeezing her eyes tightly together. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she could stop the hot tears from welling up. Her shoulders began shaking as she started silently crying, praying that there was some way she could undo what she had done, what she had said. She only hoped they could forgive her.

Some sixth sense told her to look up, which she did with great reluctance. She found herself looking directly into the emotionless gaze of her doctor, who she sincerely hoped was not currently her former doctor. She let her head fall again and waited for the reprimanding words she knew were coming. When the minutes ticked by and the silence remained unbroken, she attempted to calm herself by taking a deep breath and failed miserably. Trying again, she sat up straight and wiped her eyes, her breath catching in her throat and temporarily robbing her of speech. "How long have I been out?"

"Six minutes and thirty two seconds," Raven droned.

Cassandra gave a sad chuckle and wiped more tears from her cheek. "I've been kind of a bitch, haven't I?"

"You have."

"I know I've said some pretty bad things and I know there's no way-"

"There is nothing to forgive," Raven interrupted. "You have been under an increasing amount of pressure since I met you again in Summer Isle. You had a brief episode on Spring Isle and finding out that you will always be hunted caused you to snap. Unless I am mistaken, you suffered a similar episode after you were banished from your family."

Cassandra gaped at the smaller woman in shock, too surprised by Raven's knowledge of her past and her willingness to forgive her captain. "H-how did you know?"

"Your sister informed me," Raven muttered. "I met with her at the Academy."

"Is that why you came for me?" Cassandra asked, rubbing the last of her tears from her face.

Raven blinked. "Among other things. Come, let us confront Alexander."

"Thank you," Cassandra whispered. "Thank you. Have the others come yet?"

"No sign of them," Raven answered, hopping off of Lyn's bedpost and striding over to the door. "Your main concern is Alexander. He is in the galley."

Cassandra nodded and stood up, tottering a bit to the side. Raven was beneath her outstretched arm in a heartbeat, stabilizing her with a gentle but firm grip. Nodding gratefully, the pirate captain regained her footing and exited the women's quarters. "By the way, why are you being so understanding? I have done nothing to deserve it and don't think for a second that my 'shameful' act was worth this much."

"As the doctor of the Black Glove Pirates, I am tasked with the duty of keeping the crew alive," Raven murmured. "And if you cast away those whom you protect and those who protect you, your chance of survival will be non-existent. Like it or not, you are our Captain and part of the crew."

"I'm never sure whether you're comforting me or not," Cassandra told her as she descended the stairs to the deck. "But I give you permission to sedate me if I ever flip out again. It's best not to try to alienate my crewmembers."

"Noted."

Cassandra took a deep breath to prepare herself and gently pushed the galley door open. _Funny how the crewmember shorter and less dangerous than me makes me as afraid as his taller and more dangerous counterpart._ "Alexander? Are you there?"

"What is it, _Cassandra_?" he snapped frostily, not turning away from the counter. "Are you here to yell at me some more? Maybe call me a few names?"

"I guess I deserved that," she mumbled sheepishly, noting the omission of her usual honorific. "Listen, I'm really sorry about earlier. I know I flipped out and said some things I shouldn't have."

Alexander shook his head. "A minor understatement."

"Okay, I was being a bitch. I'll admit it. But I'm sorry, I'm really really sorry."

The musician's grip on the pan in front of him was tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

"Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?" she asked, taking a tentative step forward.

He whirled around, still holding the pan. "You said some pretty harsh words, Cassandra, and you truly believed them. I still have my dream and faith in my friends and I don't like being ridiculed for it."

_This isn't going as well as I'd hoped_. "I don't know what I was thinking. I guess the enormity of the situation got to my head. I'm calmer now; I swear I am. I'm not telling you as your captain to forgive and forget. I'm begging you as your friend to give me a second chance."

"And you certainly don't deserve it…" he muttered, staring pensively at the pan in his hands.

"Please, Alexander!" Cassandra said, letting a note of pleading enter her voice. "I swear to you, you will never have cause to doubt me again!"

"Obviously, the emotions are getting to our head," Alexander stated, his eyes upon her once again. "We are in no state to make any decisions right don't trust your mind right now and I don't trust mine. So I propose to leave it in the hands of a higher authority and see what the spirits have to say about it!"

"What are you-" Her sentence was cut off as he closed the distance between them with short hops on his unbroken leg, swinging the pan at her head. Her reflexes screamed at her to duck underneath or dodge backwards, but she was determined to show her faith in her crewmember. If knocking her unconscious was what it took for him to forgive her, she was willing to accept it. She kept her eyes open and focused on his, praying her loss of consciousness would be swift.

What she did not expect was the pan to suddenly dissolve into cool water, splashing across her face instead of smashing it in. Alexander shook his hand, sending water droplets flying from his black glove, and gave a wry grin. "Looks like my heart is willing to forgive you, Captain."

Cassandra gave a shaky laugh as he wrapped her in a comforting hug. "For a second there, I thought you were actually going to hit me."

"But you didn't flinch," he said. "And the spirits knew it, even if I didn't."

"And if you had hit her, you would be on the ground beside her, writhing in pain," Raven droned.

"Of course," he muttered, his grin still on his face as he broke their hug. "But what caused you to lose your head like that, Captain? Even in the worst of times you have kept a level head."

"Well, that's not entirely true," Cassandra said slowly. "I have been known to snap under extreme and unexpected pressure."

"Mm," Alexander grunted. "Just be thankful that you didn't try to pull that little act with Damien or Lyn, Captain."

All color drained from the pirate captain's face. "Oh… shit, yeah…"

Alexander gave a small chuckle as he lead the two women outside. "Can you imagine? Lyn would be bawling her eyes out and Damien would enjoy pulling your vertebrae from your back one at a time and finding out how hard they are."

"How lovely, but true," Cassandra commented, her mind still giddy with the knowledge that she wasn't a complete failure as a captain. "Speaking of which, where are they?"

"Judging by the burning man coming towards us and the absence of people around said man, Damien is approaching," Raven whispered. "He seems to have calmed down."

"How can you say that he's calm while he's on fire?" Cassandra asked. "Forget it. Whatever he's done is unimportant right now. At this point, I'll take no more drama tonight."

They leaned on the railing, to watch him approach. Unfortunately, Alexander happened to lean next to a missing patch, causing the railing to break and sending him into the water below. Raven had leapt in after him before Cassandra could react, vanishing below the surface with nary a splash. There was no movement for a while and Cassandra leaned all the way over, trying to see anything in the dark water. Gradually, the sea started to bubble violently, foam forming a small white circle on the surface. The pair soon exploded from the water, arcing through the air and landing back on the ship. Both pirates were breathing heavily, neither choosing to move a muscle.

"You okay?" Cassandra asked, not leaving her position on the railing.

"I don't care if consuming a Devil Fruit makes me an alchemist," Alexander gasped. "I feel like a toddler every time I fall overboard."

"I can't imagine what that must feel like," Cassandra told him. "And going back to my previous note, please don't mention this little episode to our two more… impulsive crewmembers."

"Got it. No rivers of tears or decorative spinal cord necklaces."

Rolling her eyes at her weary musician, she turned her attention to her approaching fighter. "Ahoy, Damien! Enjoy your night on the town?"

The navigator stopped at the edge of the docks, staring tiredly up at her. "Drank a bi', finished off a butcher's stock, killed some poor bastards, fucked up some buildin's…"

"All in all, a good night for you," Cassandra nodded. "Have you seen Lyn?"

"Fer a shor' while," he grunted with a yawn. "Las' time I saw 'er-"

"Here I am, Captain!" Lyn shouted, popping her head out from around the blood-encrusted navigator.

"Lyn!" Cassandra shouted as she caught sight of the cuts and bruises covering the woman's body. "What happened to you? Raven, I thought you said she was uninjured!"

"She was," Raven droned, crouching on the railing and peering down at the first mate. "She was intoxicated, but unharmed."

Cassandra frowned in confusion. "Then did the mercenaries come back and attack you?"

"Nope!" Lyn replied cheerfully, turning upside down as she hung onto one of the fighter's dreadlocks. "Damien was giving me a lift home and I was thankful so I kissed him and he threw me through a wall!"

The pirate captain could mentally envision a tumbleweed rolling between them at this point. "What?"

Lyn furiously nodded her head, sending her black and red hair flying wildly. "And that means I only haven't kissed Raven and Alexander yet!"

Cassandra looked at her strangely. "First of all, I am deeply disturbed by the absence of my name in that list. Second of all, Damien, it is not okay to go about hurling crewmembers into masonry. Third of all, Lyn, right yourself and how many drinks did you consume before you thought it would be a good idea to kiss him?"

"I only had a frozen daiquiri, a martini, a tequila, a Bloody Mary, a White Frostmooran, a-"

"I'm surprised you still have a functioning liver," Cassandra told her as Damien grabbed the first mate and tossed her onto the ship, hopping aboard a second later. "Or that you're still awake, for that matter. Well, now that we're all back safe and sound, we have to decide our next course of action. Damien, Lyn, I think you should know our current circumstances has taken a turn for the worst. The mercenaries who attacked you were the Otan Mercenaries, a group operated by the World Government."

The newly arrived pair slowly cocked their heads to the side, not quite understanding what she meant.

"The World Government is after us," Cassandra reiterated.

A devilish grin began spreading on Damien's face as he contemplated this new development. "About fuckin' time, if y'ask me."

"Don't worry, Government!" Lyn gurgled, latching onto the sniper like a lamprey. "We'll take care of the World Captain for you!"

"I don't know why I expected any other reaction," Cassandra mumbled to herself, attempting to extract herself from her first mate's vice grip. "Anyway, I want the three of you to stay on the ship. Alexander, despite the fact that Lyn is first mate and is technically second-in-command, her imminent lapse into a drunken stupor means that you are now in charge."

"Sounds good to me," the musician replied as he helped pull Lyn off of his captain. "But where are you and Raven going?"

Cassandra turned to the short doctor, a glint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "We are going to give the mercenaries a little present that they will not enjoy in the least."

Raven nodded once. "A fine decision."

"I'll be getting ready," Cassandra said, ascending to the women's quarters and entering the room. She ran her hands through her hair and stared around, thinking about how to go about this. She had already taken a shower earlier in a failed effort to calm herself down, so all she needed to do was change clothes and arm herself. Stripping down completely, she went to work with careful precision.

She walked over to her closet and pulled it open, staring at the rows of clothes before her. Pushing aside her black overshirts, she reached around and opened up a special compartment hidden in the wall. Inside were the clothes she had worn as an assassin, carefully folded up and stashed away. Smirking slightly, she withdrew them from their partition and spread them out, admiring them proudly. This was the final suit given to her before her exile, a symbol of the woman she once was. She was a pirate now, but it would be foolish to turn her back on something so familiar without a good reason.

She pulled on her pitch black pants, loose enough to be comfortable yet tight enough not to snag any protruding nails or edges. Her skintight long sleeved shirt was next, almost entirely black, but dappled with dark blues and browns to provide better camouflage against a wall or ceiling. She reached behind her head and secured her hair into a ponytail, quirking her lips as she remembered she had dyed it when she had left her family. Raven did explain that it had been growing out, so she might be able to cut the brown length off soon. Shaking her head, she reached over and pulled on her black tabi, wiggling her toes to make sure the garments still fit. Her last article was her black glove, a wave of nostalgia washing over her as she put it on and clenched her hand into a fist. This was the first time she was wearing this outfit as a pirate. She had better make the most of it.

Her weapons were different from last time, however. She strapped on her belt and placed the Sussuri in the holsters, making sure that drawing them could be done in an instant. She also stuck her original throwing knives inside the belt, for they were still useful to her. Deciding against adding the belt bearing her former pistols, she reached over and looped her black leather baldric across her chest, tucking her rifle securely away. She strapped her great-grandfather's throwing knives onto her shoulders, checking them to make sure they too were easily accessible. Crossing the room to retrieve her box of rifle ammunition, she reached inside and pulled out twenty one rounds, the most that would comfortably fit on her bandolier. After searching around underneath her bed for a moment, she located a length of dark grey rope and coiled it around her waist, knotting it firmly. Finally, she picked up her hat and withdrew the tiny knife from inside the ribbon, tucking it in her ponytail.

She looked at herself in the mirror as she exited the room, feeling proud of herself. Save for her hair and weapons, she looked like an assassin once more. Raven was waiting for her outside, perched on the railing in front of the women's quarters. "You are ready," she murmured, more of a statement than a question.

"As are you," Cassandra replied, cracking her knuckles. "How are the others?"

"Damien is vomiting off the starboard side, Lyn is experimenting with body paint and Alexander is falling asleep on the table in the galley."

"Two for three isn't bad, especially considering the two who are doing more or less what I expected them to," Cassandra muttered. "Slap Alexander awake and let us be off."

* * *

Well, I guess we're all entitled to meltdowns now and then. It's just a shame we don't all have doctors who look at everything from a completely objective standpoint. (Okay, so we do. But you have to pay to visit a therapist to do so.) Catch you next time!


	35. Reawakened Spirit

And here is the next installment of the Black Glove Pirates. What does Cassandra have in mind for the mercenaries? Only I know... (though you will in under a minute)

* * *

Twin dark shadows raced across the rooftops, barely disturbing anything in their path. Cassandra had not run like this in months, but her body was fueled with adrenaline and her muscles were flooded with energy. Her breathing was light in spite of the weight of her weapons and the vigorous pace the pair was keeping. A wisp of a smirk still hung on her lips; even in the face of the dark act she was about to commit, she was enjoying herself.

As she vaulted over a chimney, she gave a sideways glance at the woman beside her. Raven was moving more easily than her captain, considering the fact that she only spent half of the time actually touching the rooftops and the other half flying through the air. Cassandra shook her head at the ease with which the smaller woman traversed terrain. Raven's family may have had the advantage with mobility and secret techniques, but the Negras' were trained not to stop until the target was dead and the assassin was safely out of harm's way, without drawing attention to themselves. They were some of the brilliant strategists in the world, after all.

Catching sight of the church before her, she glanced upwards and realized it would be an excellent vantage point. Unwrapping the rope from around her waist and quickly knotting it into a wide loop, she began whirling the lasso above her head as she approached the edge of the roof. Hopping up from a ceiling vent onto a clothesline, she prepared for her leap, having not done such an action in ages. She braced herself ever so briefly before hurling herself into the air, still swinging her rope above her head. She soared forward for a moment, then threw the lasso with all of her might, aiming for one of the gargoyles decorating the walls of the church.

Ordinarily, such a throw would have been a foolhardy act. But Cassandra had worked endlessly to perfect it and had used it countless times in previous assassinations. The rope snagged the stone creature's neck and drew taut with a quick yank on the pirate's part. Cassandra began working her way up the rope even before she struck the church wall, using all of her arm strength to pull herself up. Feeling gravity take over and swing her towards the church, she grabbed on tightly and placed her legs out in front of her, bracing for impact.

Upon colliding with the wall, she used her toes to grab onto a decorative furl curling along with wall, preventing her from bouncing away. She felt every joint in all twenty digits cry in pain as they were pushed to the limits of their capabilities, straining to keep hold of their respective anchors. Despite the pain, she released her hold on neither the wall nor the rope. After letting the flares subside to throbbing aches, she began scaling the wall with practiced ease, reaching the stone gargoyle in no time. From there, she unwrapped the rope and began spinning the lasso once more, aiming for a protruding piece of décor further up the wall. She ascended in this manner, wasting no time to get to the top.

When she finally arrived at the enormous bell hanging near the top, she found that Raven was already waiting for her. Shaking her head slightly, she pulled herself into the belfry and sat down, catching her breath. "Curse you and your ability to move freely in all six directions," she said jokingly, resting against a supporting column.

"Where is the mercenaries' base of operations?" Raven asked, peering around at the city. "It would be most unwise to have them this close to the ocean."

"Oh, they're quite a ways in that direction," Cassandra responded, taking time to slow her breathing. "But this is close enough for me."

Raven turned to her. "You intend to kill them at this distance?"

"No, I only brought the rifle along to look cool," Cassandra retorted sarcastically.

"Then why did you bring the pistols?"

"There are operatives all over this city. It wouldn't be hard to find me when I start sniping because I didn't bring my silencer and I want to be able to defend myself if the need arises."

"So what was the purpose of my accompaniment?"

Cassandra sighed and lay back on the dusty floorboards. "You, Raven, are going to enter the facilities and cause as much mayhem as you want."

"Very well," Raven droned. "Where is the base?"

"I'll show you." Cassandra sat back up and unstrapped the sniper rifle from her back. She unfolded the legs from the barrel and anchored them to the floor, ensuring the stability of her weapon. Removing her ammunition-covered bandolier and setting it aside, she lay down on her stomach and peered through the lenses. She scanned the distant town for the building, locating it in just under a minute. Grinning with satisfaction, she zoomed in on the mercenary base, searching for her target. "Where are you…" she muttered to herself.

Her smile widened as she located the object of her ire. "Here we are. Mick Barroy, codenamed Zulu. Blond hair, scar on left cheek that my sister gave him."

"Why did your sister injure him?" Raven asked.

"Long story," Cassandra murmured dismissively. "And look, he's decked out in all his finery, save for his helmet. Four-year old battlesuit, standard model: machine gun, targeting system, plate armor. Except for the flamethrower. That's specially requested."

"How do you intend to kill him?"

"Easy. He has pressurized gas cylinders for his flames. Now shush for a second. _Voluntas Carnae_…"

Cassandra felt adrenaline course through her system once more, enhancing her senses further. Simply because she knew where the gas tanks were didn't mean she could easily eliminate him. Her job was not simply to kill him, but to give a clear indication of the base so Raven could infiltrate it. She needed to wait until he was a certain distance from any sources of heat before firing, a difficult task when he was in a room filled with torches. She focused on his back and squeezed ever so slightly on the trigger, preparing herself for the shot. Her mind began running through a series of calculations, factoring in wind speed, the distance to Zulu, the time delay between the shot and the impact and the countless other aspects that could alter the course of the bullet.

"Cassandra Negras's on a church, ee eye ee eye oh," she sang softly to herself, calming herself before the shot. "And from that church, she shot some guys. Bada boom bada bing bang…"

Exhaling completely, she aimed the rifle upwards and concentrated, her finger tightening on the trigger. The rifle practically convulsed as it spat out the round, a loud retort echoing through the air.

"Boom," she finished, looking through the lenses at Zulu one more. "Minervae Manica Nigra."

She waited patiently for the bullet to reach the building, having lost sight of it the moment it had entered the dark night. She idly wondered what would happen if she missed. The mercenaries would certainly be alerted of her presence, but that was a risk she wanted to take. She decided against firing another shot immediately afterwards; there was no need to kill Zulu that badly. The goal was to send a message. If she killed him, message clear. If not, warning shots were always nice too.

When the bullet smashed through the glass and struck his armor, she grinned and held up her gloved hand. "Wait for it…"

The sudden release of pressurized gas propelled the mercenary leader forward, the weight of the battlesuit the only thing preventing him from blasting through the wall on the other side of the room. As it was, he was knocked off his feet and sent crashing along the ground, receiving no help from the mercenaries running for cover. "Wait for it…"

The area was illuminated as the fuel finally reached the nearby torches, instantly catching fire. The room exploded apart, the glass shattering, the roof collapsing, the walls buckling. Mercenaries where hurled through the air like ragdolls along with debris, most of them having caught on fire in the initial explosion. She watched with perverse glee as other men and women rushed to contain the conflagration, but were unable to approach it due to the intense heat. Raising her head and catching sight of the tiny yellow speck in the distance, she pointed at the light as if shooting a gun, her thumb out and her pointer finger extended. "Go."

Raven nodded once and leapt from the building in a graceful dive, disappearing over the edge. A quick glance over the edge revealed that the woman was shooting quickly through the air, only visible outlined against the brightly-lit city below her. Cassandra leaned back and ejected the spent round, strapping the casing back onto her bandolier so as to leave no evidence. "And that's how Cassandra Negras shoots a rifle."

Staring at her smoking weapon, she decided to wait for Raven to reach the headquarters before firing again. She exhaled deeply and mentally congratulated herself on a job well done. She was immensely pleased with herself; not only did she prove that her skills and knowledge had not been forgotten despite her change of profession, but she had filled herself with self-confidence once more. _I'm sorry, Alexander_, she thought. _I hope you never have cause to doubt me again. I _will_ be the First Queen of the Pirates_.

She was in the middle of reloading her rifle when she caught sight of something lying on the dusty floor that hadn't been there before. Raising an eyebrow, she got up and walked over, staring down at it. Her eyes widened when she realized that it was a black glove, and a left-handed one at that. Picking it up, she was wondering how it had gotten there when recognition struck her like a thunderbolt. She gave a small laugh as she tucked the glove into her pocket, making sure it couldn't fall out. "As of now, Raven, you are officially no longer an assassin. You are a Black Glove Pirate."

Cassandra lay back down and gazed through the lenses, doing her best to locate her crewmember. She saw with amazement that Raven was almost there, thirty seconds away at most. The black-clad woman was hopping from treetop to treetop, conserving her energy by using the natural spring of tree branches to move along. Arriving at the edge of the distant village, Raven landed gracefully on top of a water tower, crouching down and catching her breath. After pausing for a moment, she vanished, reappearing inside the mercenary compound. She moved with effortless fluidity, cutting down a dozen men before anybody figured out what was going on.

Squeezing off another shot for good measure, Cassandra sighed and began to reload. Her initial adrenaline rush over and her desire for vengeance vanishing, she began to reflect upon the massacre she had allowed to happen. She usually did not relish killing another person, so some part of her was still against the murder of so many people. Comforted by the fact that Lyn and Alexander weren't there and the knowledge that this was the best and probably only way to send the message across, she shook her head and put her eye to the lens again, picking out another target.

Things continued in this vein for several minutes. Cassandra only halted after all twenty one rounds were spent, having amassed a total of thirty two kills excluding those felled in the initial explosion. Raven had apparently been counting the shots, for she had disappeared the instant the final shot blasted a hole through a trio of mercenaries attempting to sneak up on the petite doctor. Cassandra had largely ignored the shouts coming from directly below her until now, but she felt that now was the time to address them. Standing up straight and rolling her neck and limbs around to alleviate some of the stiffness, she glanced downwards, spying several people rapidly ascending the stairs to the belfry.

"Time to go," she whispered, folding her rifle's stand back to its original position and strapping it to her back. After scanning the area to make sure she had not left anything behind, she took a running jump off the edge just as the trapdoor slammed open and mercenaries began pouring forth. She twisted around in midair and drew her pistols, firing off shots at the souls brave enough to peek over the edge of the drop. Holstering them as the earth rushed up to greet her, she unraveled her rope with a flick of her wrist and formed a hasty lasso, flinging it back towards the building. This time, the lasso caught on and pulled off the object she was trying to anchor herself to, falling uselessly towards the ground. Panic welling up within her chest, she pulled the rope back and withdrew her old throwing knife, wrapping the rope securely around the end and heaving it with all her might.

Luckily, this did the trick. The knife embedded itself in the masonry and she was pulled towards the church wall once more. Seeing that she was flying towards a window, she hung on tightly and bowed her head, shielding her body from the inevitable encounter with stained glass shards. The knife was pulled free as she crashed through the window, tumbling head over heels along the wooden walkways. She pulled out of her roll with a mighty thrust of her torso, wrapping the cord around her waist as quickly as she could. After locating a spiral staircase, she reached the end of the rope and released the knife from its knot with a swift movement, tucking the blade back into her belt. Ignoring the twisting stairs in favor of zigzagging down the middle from banister to banister, she practically fell downwards, occasionally glancing upwards to keep track of her pursuers.

She burst out of the front door like a bat out of hell, plowing through anybody and everybody that was in her way. Speed was of the essence now and she didn't think for a second that she would be able to evade her pursuers by ascending to the rooftops. Knowing that her location was known by everybody in town who was after her head, she wasted no time before hollering at the top of her lungs, yelling for everybody to move out of her way. She found that when the person shouting such things was armed to the teeth, people generally tended to listen to him or her.

She was vaulting through a street merchant's stand in a single bound when a shot rang out, splintering the wood beside her. She cursed aloud and began dodging and weaving from side to side, pushing anything she possibly could into her followers' way. Her breath began coming in heavy gasps as her muscles began to tire, but she forced herself to press onwards, doing her best to avoid more bullets sent in her general direction.

After a particularly close shave where the bullet had whizzed close enough to ruffle her hair, she withdrew her pistols and began shooting behind her whenever an opportunity became available, whether by flipping over low walls, sliding beneath a cart or simply turning a corner. While it was evident that she was barely hitting them because she was more concentrated in fleeing than fighting, it caused the gunshots to lessen as the mercenaries were forced to focus on dodging her bullets as well. This extra breathing time was what she needed to keep a level mind as she raced towards her ship.

Regardless of how weary she felt and how close the shots had come to striking her, she managed to redouble her efforts when she rounded a corner and the _Howling Knave_ came into view. She fairly flew over the paved road, energy pumping through her legs and arms. A small smirk grew on her face as she felt the rough transition from stone street to wooden dock, almost loosing her footing slightly. Putting on one final burst of speed, she leapt into the air and grabbed ahold of the edge of the deck, barely managing to heave herself aboard. She collapsed onto the deck, chest heaving with exertion.

After recovering her breath for a moment, she hauled herself to her feet and stared about. "Black Glove Pirates! Your captain has returned!"

Receiving no response, she frowned and glanced about. Only the torch in the galley was lit; the rest of them remained flameless and dark. Sighing heavily and walking over to the galley door, she peeked inside the porthole to see her musician and first mate both drowsily peering at the cards before them, doing their best to stay awake.

"Uh… got any threes?" Lyn asked tentatively, rubbing her eyes sluggishly.

"We're playing poker," Alexander moaned with the air of a man who had just repeated the same phrase for the umpteenth time.

"Oh…" Lyn yawned widely and tilted her cards to the side. "Slapjack?"

The musician groaned and let his head fall to the table, still holding his cards in the air. "We're playing poker…"

"Right… bingo?"

"Bingo isn't even a card game…"

Shaking her head and chuckling lightly, Cassandra began to search the ship for her navigator. Upon searching every room and finding neither hide nor hair of the wayward pirate, she ascended once more to the deck. Unfortunately, she was not given the chance to search for him in the city, for mercenaries had taken up residence in and on nearby buildings and had begun firing indiscriminately at the ship. Cassandra was forced to hide in the front storage room, taking retaliatory potshots around the bulky cannon. Eventually, the men began rushing forward in waves and she had to use the cannon itself to blow them off the dock. Despite their best efforts, the proximity of the cannonballs and gunpowder to the ship's lone defender was the only thing keeping the mercenaries at bay.

It was a few minutes before the shots suddenly lessened, prompting the pirate captain to glance outside once more. A black shadow she easily identified as her doctor was flitting about, eliminating the gunmen with practiced ease. She gave a sigh of relief and slumped against the massive forward gun, wiping her brow with her sleeve. The petite woman soon appeared on the cannon's itself, tucking errant strands of hair back into her lengthy ponytail. "You put up a solid defense against them, considering your lack of backup. Where are the others?"

"Two of them are here; one of them isn't," Cassandra answered, still breathing fairly heavily. "Guess which one isn't."

"Judging by the fact that Damien is approaching the ship now and was not defending you previously, I would have to say him."

"He is?" Cassandra asked, straightening her back. "Where the hell has he been?"

"You should probably ask him yourself," Raven deadpanned.

"Good point," Cassandra conceded. "Rouse the others, will you? I want them to put themselves to bed instead of Damien throwing them inside their respective rooms."

Raven nodded and vanished instantly, a small cloud of dust the only evidence that she had been there previously. Cassandra hoisted herself upright and slowly trudged up to the deck, feeling more tired with every passing second. After dealing with her crew would be a long, long rest…

When she arrived on deck to find her crew assembled and more or less awake, she sighed and began confronting the current target of her irritation. "Damien, I told you to stay on the ship. Why did you leave?"

"And where are your pants?" Raven droned, prompting the other pirates to waken enough to realize that he was not, in fact, wearing any clothing at all.

"Woulda been back by now," he yawned, removing his black armored gauntlet from between his teeth and beginning to wiggle it back onto his immobile left hand. "Fuckin' took too long."

"What do you mean I fu-?" Cassandra asked, before sighing and waving the matter aside. "You know what? Never mind. Either way, you're here now and that's what matters."

"Furthermore, you're the first one the entire crew has seen naked," Alexander said with a chuckle. "I was sure Lyn would have that honor first."

"Hey!" the first mate shouted, suddenly rejuvenated. "I was too the first person to have that… thing! Back on the first night when it was only… Captain and… Captain… and me, she saw me naked!"

"You can't say a single person is the entire crew," Alexander shot back. "So it doesn't count."

"It does too count!"

"Does not."

"Does too!"

"Does not."

"Does too!"

"Does not!"

"Does too times infinity!"

"Look," Alexander said, holding up a finger. "One person can never be considered a crew and you can't count yourself, so there. Damien was the first."

Lyn opened her mouth, but eventually closed it again. "Well, I can be the second!"

Cassandra leapt forward and grabbed the woman in a bear hug, preventing her from removing any clothing. "What are you, children? I can't believe somebody would even have this contest! Alexander, Lyn, go to bed, both of you!"

"Yes, mommy!" Lyn chirped, twisting about and planting a kiss on Cassandra's cheek. "Good night!"

The pirate captain released her and watched in amazement as the first mate bounded upstairs, slamming the door behind her. Shaking his head, Alexander gave a quick salute as he crossed the deck, yawning heavily as he entered the men's quarters. Nodding in satisfaction, Cassandra turned to her last problem crewmember and planted her hands on her hips. "Now, can I trust you with the task of navigating us away from the island safely and quietly?"

"No," Damien said bluntly.

"No?" Cassandra repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Why the hell not?"

"Yonder black'earted bitch promised me a figh'," he growled, jerking a thumb in Raven's direction. "I won' leave till then."

Rolling her eyes, Cassandra turned to Raven, mentally imploring her to accommodate the navigator's request. The doctor paused for a moment, then blinked and turned to face the scarred fighter. "I will allow to land one hit on me. Will that satiate your desire for now?"

"Wha's sashiate?" Damien grumbled, cocking his head to the side.

Raven rephrased her question. "Will you do as Cassandra asks if you hit me once?"

The man pondered this for a moment, then nodded and leapt off the ship, landing on the street lining the docks in a surprisingly small crater. Raven glanced at her captain before vanishing, reappearing before the crazed navigator. Carefully leaning on a sturdy patch of railing, Cassandra watched on curiously, wondering what the doctor planned to do. There was no way Raven would let Damien land a fatal hit on her, but she knew that anything else could cause the larger pirate to demand a fair blow. This would be a curious event, to say the least.

After exchanging a few words, Damien drew his right fist back and lashed out with a powerful blow, slugging Raven in the chest with as much force as he could muster with his total blood volume three quarters of what it should be. Cassandra barely caught sight of the doctor lowering her center of gravity before the hit landed, beginning to realize why she had accepted the request: Raven surely had a way of withstanding such a blow. The curvaceous pirate skidded along the street for a moment, her feet plowing twin furrows in the smooth stones, before losing her balance and tumbling backwards, disappearing from view an instant later.

Wringing his fist out, Damien nodded in satisfaction and sprang into the air once more, landing heavily on the poop deck beside the wheel. "Wind's good, mateys! Weigh anchor an' lower th' sails, Cap'n, we're settin' off!"

Cassandra nodded and began winding the winch to raise the anchor before pausing and glancing up at the man. "Aren't I supposed to be the one giving you orders?"

"Yeh wanted t' get goin'!" he yelled back. "Why're yeh fuckin' complainin'?"

"Just get us out of here!" she shouted back humorously. He gave a thundering laugh and planted his feet firmly on the wooden boards, gripping the wheel tightly with his functioning arm. Cassandra was about to unfurl the sails when they fell open seemingly of their own accord. She grinned and walked over to the stairs leading to the women's quarters, slowly climbing them as her muscles began to protest with so much activity with so little rest. Just as she was about to enter the room, Raven appeared on the railing beside her, breathing heavily and brushing specks of dust from her pitch black outfit. "You need to get some rest."

"I will, I will," Cassandra said dismissively. "How did you take that blow of his without passing out? He nearly knocked Darren Madaxe into a coma with that!"

"One of my ancestors' techniques is focused on withstanding such strikes," Raven droned, one hand resting on her chest where Damien had struck her. "I will explain it to you later. Sleep well; I will be on watch duty tonight."

"Okay, but I want you to get some rest too," Cassandra told her. "Have Damien watch for some of the time."

Raven dipped her head once and vanished from sight. Cassandra wearily walked into her bedroom, carelessly discarding her weapons as she ambled towards her bed. She barely had time to shed her clothing as well before collapsing facefirst onto her pillow, closing her eyes sleepily. Foregoing all personal hygiene and her normal sleeping attire, she wormed her way underneath her blankets and fell instantly asleep.

* * *

Well, that was fun. Cassandra got to snipe a bit, Damien finally got to hit Raven, Lyn lost her chance to be naked, Alexander showed incredible tolerance with the first mate's antics and Raven is officially part of the crew. Not a bad note to leave Autumn Isle on, I think.


	36. Twixt a Wintry Rock and a Hard Place

Sorry about the month-long delay and all that. Here are my favorite five seafarers on another one of their fun little adventures in which they all nearly die. Then again, would they enjoy themselves otherwise?

* * *

"All hands on deck! Man your stations!"

Cassandra blearily sat up, wondering what was going on. She looked around to find that Lyn was also somewhat awake and scratching her cheek dazedly. Her next observation was that the ship was rising and falling much more energetically than usual, which was never a good sign. Swinging her feet over the edge of her bed and groggily standing up, she then realized that the room was still quite cold. Deciding that the bobbing of the ship and the strange call could wait, she hastily pulled on warmer clothing, muttering darkly under her breath.

"What's goin' on, Captain?" Lyn asked, kneeling on her bed to stare out of the porthole. "What's Alexander shouting about?"

"No idea," Cassandra answered, shoving her foot into her cowboy boot. "But I'm about to find out."

She plopped her white hat onto her head and opened the door, only to be greeted by a blast of ice and water, instantly soaking her to the bone. Curiosity instantly replaced with shock, which was then quashed by rage, she fought her way through the raging sleet and somehow climbed up to the poop deck, where the awakening call had originated. There, she found the two pirates she had picked up on Charred Island, one gripping the mizzenmast tightly and the other enjoying himself immensely.

"What is going on?" she shouted.

"Hothead pissed off a Sea King and now its friend is chasing us!" the musician yelled back, beginning to inch his way towards her.

Cassandra gritted her teeth. "And how did you manage to piss off a Sea King?"

"Tore its fuckin' jaw off," Damien replied with the air of a child explaining why he should get the cookie he had taken from the cookie jar. "But Songbird wouldn' let me get th' other one, so we 'ave t' escape!"

"Well I hope you're happy!" she screamed at him. She then reflected on her choice of words and decided to try again. "No more recklessly endangering the lives of the crew!"

The two male pirates exchanged a neutral glance.

"Anyway, why did you call us up here?" Cassandra inquired, gripping the railing tightly as the ship bucked harder than before.

"Now there's a funny story to be told here," Alexander began. "See, it goes back to that whole 'endangering' business you mentioned a second ago…"

"Tell me, you sodden lunatic!"

Alexander pointed at his longtime companion instead of directly answering the question. "Ask him where we're going."

A feeling of dread burgeoned in her stomach and she practically felt her limbs tremble not from cold, but from fear. "Damien, what asinine course have you plotted for us now?"

"Yahahar!" the navigator laughed boisterously. "We're off ta Winter Isle, o' course! Wouldn' make sense not t' visit all four islands, now would it?"

Cassandra knew this wasn't the end of it. "And how are we getting there?"

"Th' fastest way we can!" Damien bellowed. "'Cross the whirlpool we go!"

"What!?" she shrieked, leaping across the saturated deck and socking him in the head. "Turn away now!"

"Fuck no!" he grinned, ignoring the blow. "We goin' 'cross this thing!"

"It's too late, Captain," Alexander shouted in despair. "We've already entered one of the deeper currents. There's no turning away now without very careful planning and convincing Damien that we should leave."

Cassandra worked her jaw uselessly, marveling at her crew's actions. "I'm not sure whether this plan is courageous or completely batshit insane," she finally managed. "Okay, it's probably the latter. But I'll be damned if we vanish off into the great abyss without achieving what we set out to do! Lyn, Raven, come to the poop deck this instant!"

Raven was perched on the wheel in a heartbeat while the bikini-clad first mate took a few seconds longer to appear in the freezing sleet. "Yes?" they chorused.

"Raven, get some rope and tie us all to the main mast," Cassandra ordered. "I don't want any of us to be swept off the ship and never seen again. Lyn, I want you to lock everything down. Lock the cabinets in the galley and the medical ward. The stuff in the storage lockers should still be tied down, unless one of you shifted something recently." Four quick shakes of the head. "Alexander, is the men's room ready for this?"

"Drawers locked and books shelved."

"Very good. In that case, I want you to get belowdecks in case we spring a leak. Damien, your hand is not to leave that wheel until the ship has come to a complete stop, okay?"

"Wasn' dreamin' of it!"

"Raven, when you're done tying the crew, go to the topgallant mizzenmast yard and get ready to raise the sail."

A single nod.

"If anyone needs me, I'll be up on the main yard. Lyn, when you're done, join me up there. We can't just raise and lower the sails from the decks because if we do, there's a high chance that we'd be swept off by some massive wave. Let's move, pirates! We all need to pitch in if we need to stay alive!"

Three cries of "Aye!" echoed out, followed a split-second later by an ear-splitting crack of thunder. The pirates scattered like sparrows before an eagle, each hurrying to his or her own assigned task. Cassandra vaulted over the poop deck railing and landed heavily on the main deck, instantly loosing her footing and slamming onto the slick boards. Before she could slide anywhere, Raven was beside her, wrapping a length of rope tightly around her waist. Nodding gratefully at the silent doctor, who vanished in search of another crewmate to secure, she climbed to her feet and nearly fell over once more as the _Howling Knave_ gave a mighty groan and reared up.

"Oh no, you don't," she hissed to herself as she waddled over to the rigging, ducking her head against the stinging sleet. Shaking the numbness from her limbs, she flexed her fingers to warm them slightly and began to ascend to the distant yard. Her thick clothing, which would have worked in a drier, less windy environment, severely hampered her movement, so she was forced to throw them off. Clad only in a transparent T-shirt, white bra and sodden jeans, she battled her way up the rigging one rung at a time, using all of her strength with each pull.

An eternity later, she finally made it up to the wooden spar and collapsed, panting heavily. After regaining her breath slightly, she rose to her knees and crawled over to a length of rope, grabbing hold of it tightly. "Raven, furl the sails so they don't tear! Let the ocean guide us for now!"

Through the dense sleet, she could barely make out the mizzen sails begin to rise at a painfully slow pace. Both masts let out pained creaks as the winds began to increase, pushing against the sails with all their might. Cassandra planted both boots firmly on the yard and heaved on the ropes, her arms burning with exertion. The ship began to swerve back and forth over each crest, indicating a fierce fight between the navigator and the winds. Below her, an enormous swell washed over the deck, scouring it with frigid water.

After a particularly hard yank, her boot slipped from the yard and her foot flailed in mid air. For a split second, she began to plummet towards the distant deck and her heart flew up into her throat. Keeping panic from overcoming her, she threw her arm back and grabbed on to the spar behind her, shoulder joint protesting madly at the sudden strain. Painfully, she twisted around and latched onto the yard with her other hand, pulling herself back onto the wooden beam. Groaning miserably, she began to pull on her rope once more, attempting to raise the sail against the violent winds.

Unexpectedly, the sail began to move more easily, requiring less strength to pull the rope underneath her arm. Looking around the crow's nest, she saw that Lyn had joined her on the beam, a length of rope firmly tied around her waist. Nodding with satisfaction, Cassandra redoubled her efforts, focusing solely on the rope, her hands and her feet. The sleet, the winds, the tossing ship… nothing mattered except getting the sail curled up beneath her.

An excruciating period of time later, the bottom of the sail finally reached the yard. Cassandra set about tying the ropes with tight sailors' knots, securing the cloth to the wood. When she finished, she slowly made her way over to the crow's nest and collapsed into the wooden bowl, welcoming a brief rest from the furious weather. True, the sleet still pelted her with droplets of half-frozen ice and the winds curled over the lip to chill her to the bone, but it was nowhere near as bad as being exposed to the elements full-on.

"Hiya, Captain!" Lyn chirped as she climbed in wrapped her arms around her captain. "I'm freezing!"

"As am I," Cassandra replied, accepting the woman's body heat and returning it in kind. "What I would give to be immune to such temperatures."

"I know!" Lyn agreed. "Damien is lucky, isn't he?"

Cassandra realized that due to his flames, the navigator did indeed have protection against the extremes of heat and cool nature could throw against him. "In that respect, he is."

"'Old on, mates!" echoed the aforementioned man's bellow from below. "We're ent'rin' th' whirlpool's main current!"

"Have you noticed that he swears a lot less when he's sailing?" Lyn asked, holding her mouth open to drink in the icy rain.

"I have." Cassandra pulled her hat over her face, protecting it from the wintry storm.

The pair fell silent, listening to the rain, thunder and Damien's occasional burst of wild laughter. Even with the holes around the crow's nest to let the water out and the gap where lightning had struck the structure long ago, Cassandra was still soaked from the water sloshing around the bottom. She felt Lyn snuggle even closer to her and thought about how Raven was dealing, all alone on her distant spar. After reflecting on this for a moment, she realized that the doctor didn't necessarily need to remain outside all the time. She could be in the warm galley until called upon and zip up to the spar before the echo of the order faded away. But Cassandra could not begrudge her friend her abilities. The brutal training and emotional dearth outweighed the benefits.

Cassandra was shaken from her thoughts as the _Howling Knave_ was struck by a particularly large wave, nearly throwing the two women from the crow's nest. Lyn reached out and grabbed her captain as Cassandra fell towards the hole carved by lightning, nearly dropping out of it entirely. The pirate captain placed one leg on either side of the whole, halting her slide.

"Thanks," she said breathlessly as Lyn hauled her back onto relatively safe wood.

"No prob!" Lyn responded brightly. "How long do you think we'll be in this storm?"

"For as long as we're riding Nemuartsksom," Cassandra replied through chattering teeth. "Only Damien could give you a more concrete answer!"

"Okay!" Cassandra's eyes widened as she realized what the first mate was about to do, but her cold-numbed limbs refused to keep up with her inhuman reflexes. Lyn leapt out of the crow's nest in a graceful dive, plunging towards the main deck. Whether by design or sheer coincidence, a gust of wind blew her towards the poop deck, curving her rope against the bottom yard. Cassandra rushed to the other side of the crow's nest to see the former nun skid across the rain-slicked deck and grab on to the steaming navigator, shouting merrily at him. She couldn't make out their lip movements through this torrential rain, but she knew the pair was having some sort of conversation.

Once their verbal exchange finished, Lyn pointed up at Cassandra and mouthed something. The scarred brawler glanced upwards and gave a grin even Cassandra could see from so far away, a grin that he usually wore before he was about to defy orders and do something completely irresponsible. Sure enough, he planted one foot on the wheel to keep it from turning and held out his hand. The first mate hopped onto it and Damien reared back, tilting as far backwards as he could without falling over. With one surge of power, he threw Lyn with all of his might, sending her flying against the furious wind. Cassandra cried out in surprise at the maneuver, for a moment wondering if he had thrown her too hard. But the gale-strength gusts ripping past the rigging slowed the artist down considerably, allowing her to seize yard as she collided with it.

"I'm back!" Lyn sang, standing up and walking away from the crow's nest with her arms outstretched for balance.

"Lyn!" Cassandra yelled. "What in Mors' name are you doing? Get back here!"

What the first mate was doing quickly became evident as Lyn reached the end of the wooden spar and crouched down, flicking her tether with fluid jerks of her wrist. The rope eventually came loose from where it had wrapped around the lower beam, flapping crazily in the wind once more. Satisfied, Lyn turned around and traveled back to the crow's nest, her skin almost translucent compared to her black swimsuit. "Otherwise I could get stuck!"

"Never do that again!" the pirate captain reprimanded, flicking her first mate in the forehead. "You just scared ten years off of my life!"

"How old are you anyway, Captain?" Lyn asked, ignoring both the scolding and the worsening storm.

"A hundred and forty three," she lied without skipping a beat.

What she did not expect was the first mate's eyes to widen until white completely surrounded electric blue. "That's amazing! So you were alive even before the First Pirate King!"

"Lyn, I am not that old!" Cassandra explained. "And more importantly, why the hell didn't you just remove your spirit and go ask him?"

"Oh yeah," Lyn said, wearing her why-didn't-I-think-of-that expression.

Cassandra put her hand on her face and let it slide down among rivulets of water. "Forget it. What did Damien say about our estimated time of departure?"

"He has no idea," Lyn stated, causing the sniper to facefault. "He says he doesn't know how fast Nemu-whatever is spinning, so he can't give an accurate time."

"Fair enough," Cassandra muttered. "So how does he know when to exit the maelstrom?"

"Good question!" Lyn chirped. Cassandra had her arm in a vice grip before the first mate could move a muscle. "Relax, Captain. I know what to do this time."

Her eyes closed and Cassandra was left in the crow's nest, clutching Lyn's body tightly to her chest to prevent the crewmember from falling. She opted not to stick her head above the rim of the vantage point and see if the navigator was communicating with the ethereal woman for the winds seemed to have grown stronger still. Instead, she listened to the gusts scream past the mast and slide along the deck, marveling at the power of nature's fury. She wished that she would not have to endure such wild weather again, but she knew this was an empty hope. If the Black Glove Pirates were to achieve their dreams, they would have to traverse the Grand Line, which was prone to much more sudden, more violent tempests.

_Speaking of which, when should we go to the Grand Line?_ she asked herself. _Probably after another crewmember or two, if possible. Certainly after the _Howling Knave_ gets repaired. Does Damien even know where the Grand Line is? Reverse Mountain is in the northeast corner of West Blue, which we're actually fairly close to. After he's satisfied with his jaunt through the Tiezserhaj archipelago, we'll set off. He should be pleased with the rough seas he'll get to sail through there_.

She quieted her thoughts as her first mate slowly opened her eyes, yawning widely. "Well?"

"He says he's a human compass, so he knows which direction north is in," Lyn replied. "He knows when to turn off."

Cassandra nodded thoughtfully. "That actually makes sense. I don't envy him when we go to the Grand Line."

"Why? What's in the Grand Line?"

"The islands emit their own magnetic fields, so normal compasses don't work," Cassandra explained, wincing as a rather strong wave of rain slapped her face. "Maybe he'll be fine, maybe he won't. It all depends on how strong his magnetism is."

Lyn nodded, though from the look on her face, she had stopped listening after "magnetic fields." The pirate captain sighed and glanced over the edge. "Well, if Damien doesn't need us, there's no sense in sitting in this ice bucket. Go to the bedroom; I'll inform our dear navigator of our change in position."

The first mate nodded and leapt out of the crow's nest, followed a split second later by her captain. They grabbed onto two lengths of rope and slithered downwards, the wind blowing them towards the poop deck. Upon reaching it, they slid to an awkward halt, both clutching the wheel for support. Cassandra looked up to see Damien casting a curious eye in their direction, his lips still parted in a devilish grin. "An' what migh' you lassies be doin' down 'ere?"

"There's no reason we should be freezing up there when you obviously don't need us to mess with the sails yet," Cassandra explained, hauling herself to her feet. "My limbs feel like they're going to solidify soon and a nice, hot shower sounds like heaven right now. Lyn, are you coming?"

The artist shook her head, having latched onto the navigator at some point. "Nuh-uh! He's hot!"

Cassandra saw that Lyn's bangs had indeed changed from ice blue to blood red. "Well, whatever you say. You know where to find me."

Keeping one arm firmly wrapped around Damien's, Lyn gave her a quick salute as she departed. Cassandra fought her way down the stairwell and into the women's quarters, opening the door as quickly as possible and leaping in. Unfortunately, shutting it against the strong winds proved to be a trial in itself, requiring her to nearly gouge grooves into the floor to brace her boots against. Upon finally wrestling it closed, she turned around and slumped down, gasping for breath. After letting the heat from the galley below warm her frozen limbs, she woodenly stripped down and shuffled into the bathroom, ready for a long, long shower.

A long, long shower later, she felt like she had truly woken up. Nearly freezing to death did rinse the weariness from her system, but in turn her muscles nearly ceased functioning altogether. If she had remained outside in that tempest a minute longer, she felt as if she wouldn't be able to even move any more. Nothing a nice, hot shower couldn't cure.

Toweling off her hair and eyeing the brown smudges that began appearing on the white towel, she left the bathroom amid a cloud of steam. After drying herself off, she began pulling on a set of drier, more water-resistant clothes. Sticking her foot in a bright red rain boot, she glanced outside the porthole to check on the storm, wondering if it had lessened at all.

What she saw instead nearly stopped her heart entirely.

She raced to the door and pressed her face against the thick glass, making sure she wasn't just seeing things. Sure enough, four of the tethers attached to the main mast were buffeted about by the winds and the waves, indicating that the various crewmembers attached to them were either inside or on a deck. But the fifth line was stretched taut, quivering mightily in the furious gale. Swiftly tracing the lines one by one, she quickly deduced which crewmember had fallen overboard. _Lyn…_

Had she been anybody else, she would have succumbed to panic and done something completely irrational. However, her training as an assassin had endowed her with a cool head in most situations, enabling her to come up with a plan on the spot. Sprinting outside and wrapping her own tether around her waist, she vaulted onto the main deck and gave two other tethers furious yanks. "Get out here, Alexander, Raven!" she screamed for good measure.

In an instant, her black-clad doctor was perched on the railing Cassandra had just leapt over, staring down at her captain with emotionless black eyes. Alexander emerged from belowdecks a moment later, ducking his head against the violent storm. "What is it, Captain?" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

"Lyn's fallen overboard!" she shrieked. Raven didn't hesitate for a moment. Already knowing what her task was, she disappeared so fast even Cassandra's unusually keen eyes couldn't keep track of her. Turning to her remaining crewmember, Cassandra gave her orders. "Alexander, follow me to the poop deck! We need to haul her in from there!"

"Aye, aye!" he shouted, following her up the stairs as quickly as his broken leg would allow. There, Damien was struggling mightily against the wheel, his face locked in a defiant snarl. While his own rope lay limply around his waist, having been severed by some unknown force, Lyn's stretched over the rear railing and into the raging seas below. Cassandra raced over to him, furiously wiping sleet from her face.

"How hard would it be for Alexander and I to hold the wheel?" she asked him, her voice almost vanishing in the howling winds.

"Couldn' do it!" he thundered through gritted teeth. "Barely 'oldin' on meself!"

"Fuck! Fine!" Cassandra swore before lying down and bracing both feet on his shin. "Alexander, help me out here! We're going to try to pull her back in!"

The musician said not a word, choosing to plant his own legs firmly against the steering wheel. Together, they grabbed the rope through rain-slick fingers and took a collective breath. "Ready, Captain!"

"Heave on three!" she commanded. "One, two, heave!"

They managed to wrestle half an arm's length of rope back onto the deck. "Again, one, two, heave! One, two, heave!"

Little by little, the weight at the end of the rope crept closer to the _Howling Knave_. The forces on the rope kept the pair firmly attached to their respective anchors in spite of the waves that occasionally pounded the deck. Cassandra's arms felt like columns of lead wrapped around a fiery core. Each breath she took filled her lungs with burning coals and freezing water. Her legs felt like they were going to snap like tree trunks before an avalanche. Her fingers were bleeding from the rough rope, making her grip even more slippery.

But she pressed on. She had to press on. Losing a crewmember was not acceptable. Not acceptable in the least. If possible, she began to hoist even more energetically, probably destroying her arm muscles in the process. But she didn't care. Those would heal; having Lyn gone from her life never would. Nobody on the crew would be the same without her. Cassandra needed to do this, for all of them.

She could remember no feeling as exhilarating as the one she felt as the rope left the waters and fell against the ship, signaling that the end had risen from the seas. She was about to redouble her efforts once more when Damien gave a displeased growl and stuck his foot onto the wheel again, keeping it firmly in place. He reached down and, with one sharp yank, brought the entire load onto the poop deck. Releasing the tether, Cassandra scurried across the saturated deck, praying that Lyn was alive and well.

Sure enough, the first mate was lying on the deck, her head resting on Raven's shoulder. Her body was wracked with shivers and she was coughing up enough water to fill the bathtub, it seemed. But when she opened her electric blue eyes and met Cassandra's worried gaze, she gave a weak grin and flashed a thumbs-up. "'M okay, Cap'n."

The pirate captain leapt forward, grabbing the two women in a hug despite the bile coating their clothes. "Must you scare me to death so much?" Cassandra scolded amid a fit of relieved laughter. "Have you made it your life goal to shorten my lifespan?"

"I assume that is some sort of idiom," Raven droned, somehow remaining in Cassandra's relieved grip. It probably had something to do with the fact that Lyn still looked deathly pale, more than usual, that is, and couldn't support herself.

Cassandra disregarded this peculiarity, choosing instead to reassure herself that they were still all on the deck. "Yes, Raven, it is. And thank you for keeping her alive."

"It is my duty."

"And what about me?" Alexander asked, slipping off his jacket and placing it around Lyn's shoulders. "I think I helped."

"That you did," Cassandra panted. "That you did. Come to think of it, even our resident berserker lent a hand."

"That genuinely surprised me," Raven deadpanned.

The sniper gave a light chuckle, glad to be part of such a warm embrace.

A bright orange light and a painfully loud hiss interrupted them. They all looked up to see a plume of steam flee from the ship and the aforementioned navigator pull back, satisfied with the evaporated wave. "We ain' outta this fuckin' storm yet! If y'ain' fuckin' 'elpin' me, get the fuck outta 'ere!"

Cassandra glanced up at him. "And what exactly do you need help doing?"

"Blow me or fuck off!"

The pirate captain raised her eyebrows. "We'll be out of your way then. Lyn, can you stand?"

Lyn shook her head, never releasing her hold on Raven's shoulders. The smaller woman stared up at Alexander, who took the hint and helped her pull the first mate to her feet. The three pirates slowly made their way across the poop deck, taking care not to slip on the perilous footing. Cassandra remained behind, hanging onto one of Damien's dreadlocks. "Why'd you do it?"

"Yer welcome, Cap'n," he growled.

"What I meant is that usually you show no interest in preserving your own life, much less anyone else's," she shouted back. "Why'd you save her?"

"Fuck if I know."

Cassandra sighed, knowing that that was as much info she'd get out of her unpredictable navigator. Clapping him on the back, she wove her way through the raging sleet and down the stairs, following the rest of her crew into the galley. Upon entry, she found that Alexander was busying himself at the stone while Raven helped Lyn get out of her soaked clothes, leaving her only clad in her bikini.

"Tea, Captain?" the alchemist asked, glancing over his shoulder.

"Yes, please." Wringing water from her saturated hair, she slumped down into the chair beside Raven and leaned back. "Are you all alright?"

Lyn nodded numbly, still spitting up accidentally ingested seawater. Raven began moving back and forth quickly, shimmering almost out of sight for a moment. When she stopped, she looked considerably drier than before. "I have examined Lyn and she is fine. She needs to drink liquids and warm herself up again. It would be wise if she did not exert herself unduly so restrain her if necessary."

With that, the black-clad doctor departed in a dark blur, opening and closing the door in an instant. Alexander walked over and sat down as well, folding his hands on his lap. "And we're clear that Damien did lend a hand, right Captain?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Give it a rest, Alexander. There's nothing I could do to drive him away even if I wanted to. Which I don't, by the way."

The trio fell silent, listening to the elements raging outside. Cassandra began pondering her next move involving crewmembers, knowing that in order to challenge the Grand Line, she needed at least one more pirate on her side. The only problem was she didn't seem to have control over who joined her crew. True, she had chosen Lyn, Damien and Alexander, but it didn't seem like there had been any other option. She had not hand-picked them out from a pool of candidates. She had offered and they had accepted, each of them leaving something behind. Raven joined on her own, which shot her entire theory to hell anyway. At this rate, she was going to end up with another crewmember without warning.

Her eyes snapped up as the kettle began to whistle, its piercing shriek cutting through her consciousness. Alexander tiredly stood up and turned off the burner, sighing as the noise died down. He poured out three steaming mugs of water and brought them to the table, gently setting them down. "Hot chocolate for Lyn, apple tea for you and Earl Grey for me. Thank goodness I managed to pick some up on Autumn Isle or we'd be stuck with only two types."

Nodding, Cassandra accepted her drink and began stirring it, resuming her thoughts. _When we get to Winter Isle, we need to stock up and leave. The mountain bandits were still allied with the World Government last time I checked, so we need to be cautious. While I'm confident that we can defend ourselves for a bit, their military force is something to be reckoned with. Even Damien could not survive a full clash with one of their elite squadrons and Raven would have trouble dealing with their counter-assassin squads._

"Watcha thinkin' about, Captain?" Lyn piped up, sipping her drink.

"Our route," Cassandra replied absentmindedly. "After Winter Isle, we're going to Reichmann Island, then on to the Grand Line."

"Ooh!" Lyn burbled enthusiastically. "Have you ever been there, the Grand Line?"

"There's a first time for everything," the sniper answered. "But our immediate concern is Winter Isle."

"I assume we'll encounter more troubles there?" Alexander surmised.

Cassandra nodded. "Nothing we shouldn't be able to take care of, but that doesn't mean we should let our guard down. I need you two to watch out for any suspicious activity. Do your best not to provoke them, because these men are mountain bandits. They have tempers as short as most pirates and love nothing more than a good brawl. They know their land like the backs of their hands and will use any and all of their surroundings to incapacitate you."

"Why do you know so much about this?" the musician inquired, glasses fogging over as he brought his tea to his lips.

"While you go to concert halls, I learn about our surroundings," Cassandra explained.

Alexander's eyes drifted to the side, presumably thinking back to Autumn Isle. "That makes sense. Forgive me, Captain."

"No forgiveness is required, Alexander. I would ask the same question in your place. But are we clear about the rules for Winter Isle?"

The pair of pirates bobbed their heads. "D' you want me to relay them to Damien?" Lyn asked, pointing at the ceiling.

"No," Cassandra ordered, resting her bare hand on her first mate's. "I want you to recover as quickly as possible. Besides, do you really think he'd pay attention?"

The artist pursed her lips cutely as she thought about it. "Nope!"

"Exactly."

A long moment of silence followed. The trio was content to enjoy the warmth of the ship's galley and sip at their drinks. Seconds turned to minutes, which dragged on and on. Lyn, unable to contain herself any longer, began regaling her companions with one of her escapades back when she was little. Cassandra couldn't help but laugh at the antics the first mate had done in her youth. After a particularly amusing tale involving Lyn masquerading as a mute stable boy, Alexander intervened with his own anecdote. He began speaking of the first time he had met the shamans residing on his home island. His captain and first mate reacted perfectly, listening spellbound as he told of the frightening power the men and women held. Cassandra barely registered Raven's re-entry into the galley, only notified due to her keen ears. Making a mental note to ask about how the doctor had entered so quietly, she gave a small laugh at younger Damien and his abnormal response to the mystical people.

Soon, the topic of brunch arose, for none of them had eaten breakfast and it was approaching noontime. Lyn insisted on preparing the meal despite her weakened state and Alexander volunteered to supervise her. Cassandra was about to help as well when she was forced to kick off the table and flip over backwards, hearing four knives embed themselves in the bottom of her chair. She peeked over the edge to see Raven clutching an additional six knives between her fingers. Glancing over to the counter, she saw with some amusement that the pair making food didn't even bother to turn around. She looked back to see Raven patiently waiting for her to stand up. _Practice time_, she thought with a sigh.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Hit me."

_Thwap_.

"Hit me."

_Thwap_.

"Hit me."

_Thwap_.

"Twenty one! I win!"

Cassandra let her head fall to the table. This was the third time in a row that Lyn had hit a perfect blackjack. It seemed like the woman had absurdly good luck when it came to cards. Raven, on the other hand, had been counting cards in order to win. The pirate captain had been able to hold onto her money through some questionably legal sleights of hand of her own, but Alexander was sulking in the men's quarters, having lost all of his winnings some time ago.

"Where are you getting all of this money?" Raven droned, her eyes fixed on Cassandra's.

"I received a very substantial gift from my father," the pirate captain replied. "We should work on acquiring more, however."

"But that's not-" Lyn began before a roar cut her off.

"In-bred fuckwits thachy'all are! Get t' th' deck sharp-like!"

The first mate raised her eyes to the ceiling. "I was wondering when he'd call us again. It's been almost half a day since he called us last. "

"Eleven hours, twenty three minutes and fifty eight seconds for you. It has been thirty six minutes and nine seconds since he last called me."

Cassandra and Lyn looked at her, both wondering why Raven had bothered to count the seconds since the first request. Glancing at each other and simultaneously shrugging, they peered outside the porthole on the door of the galley, mentally preparing themselves to emerge back into the storm. While the sleet had disappeared in favor of marginally warmer rain, the waters below them still throbbed violently, threatening to throw them off on every crest. It was a miracle that the ship had not been destroyed yet.

The pirate captain shed her clothing and climbed into a full-body wetsuit, twisting her arms around to zip it closed. She pushed open the door and led the other two women outside, bracing her head against the pelting rain. Alexander was already ascending the stairs to the poop deck, deciding against changing his clothing. Gripping her hat to keep it from flying into the dark sky, she climbed up after him, holding tightly onto the railing. "What is it, Damien?"

"We ain' far from Winter Isle now, so yer gonna 'ave t' get up on th' sails so we c'n get outta this 'ere whirlpool," he roared, leaning heavily to the side in an effort to turn the ship into a particularly large crest.

Cassandra's eyebrows rose. "And what exactly do you need us to do?"

Panting heavily, he flicked his eyes towards Alexander. "You 'splain it ta 'em."

The musician was more than happy to oblige. "This is when it gets the most dangerous. When we turn away from the whirlpool, the waves will be at our port side, so we have a much higher chance of capsizing. Lyn and I will man the anchor while Raven, you go back to the mizzen sail and get ready to raise and lower it accordingly. Captain, I need you to blow a hole in the hull of the ship."

Cassandra blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Our current ballast weight isn't sufficient to keep us from capsizing," he explained hurriedly as Raven and Lyn departed to their assigned positions. "Just let some seawater in and patch the hole up when enough gets filled in."

"You want me to intentionally sink the ship," she summarized.

"No, I want you to make the ship heavier. Afterwards, you can remain belowdecks to ensure the hole doesn't reopen or you can go help Raven."

She eyed him carefully as the _Howling Knave_ gave a mighty groan and tipped to the side. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"Captain," he shouted reassuringly. "I learned from the best of the best. Hothead has too. We'll get out of this alive."

With that, he hobbled back down the rain-slick stairs, vanishing from view. Shaking her head at this foolishness, Cassandra leapt over the railing, landing hard on the main deck. She forced the trapdoor open and climbed down the spiral stairs. Once inside, she paused and marveled at how clean the medical ward was despite the violent bucking of the ship. True, a few books had fallen from the shelves and a drawer had come loose, scattering its contents across the floor, but all-in-all the sickbay looked as good as new. She exited the medical ward and walked down the hallway to the stern storage room, listening to the thrumming of the waves against the hull. Unfortunately, the lamp swinging from the ceiling had gone out, leaving the storage locker in complete darkness.

"Voluntas Carnae." She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them once more. The room seemed to have brightened considerably over the course of a few seconds. True, distinct shapes were hard to make out and everything had an eerie greenish tint, but her eyes were still adjusting. She walked to the back corner of the room and unhooked a cable from large crate, pushing the box aside to expose a patch of floor. Noting the smudged footprint in the dust, she frowned and looked upwards. She didn't remember telling her crew about the smuggling compartment slash ballast slash bilge, but at least one of them had found it. She would have to inform the others before the thought slipped her mind.

Shrugging, Cassandra reached out and pressed a button concealed in the wall. With a disjointed series of creaks and jolts, the floorboards began to sink, forming a steep staircase. Crouching down, she peeked into the area, checking for anything of interest. The bilge spanned the entire length and width of the ship, with insulated walls and a myriad of wooden squares floating on the water. The miniature rafts were to support contraband regardless of the water levels, though they were currently all empty. But the water only reached about halfway up the ballast and Alexander insisted it wasn't enough. Sighing, she unwound the rope from her waist and walked down the staircase into the murky water.

Increasing the water levels was quite simple: there were valves and pumps spaced periodically along the hull to regulate water flow. However, releasing the valves, letting a sufficient amount of water in, sealing the valves off and getting back to the staircase without drowning was quite difficult. Cassandra was forced to use one of the buoys to make her way back to the staircase. She pulled herself up the stairs, shivering at the cold seawater. Thankful for her insulating wetsuit, she rested on the stairs, feeling blood rush back to her slightly numb limbs.

_Should I go help Raven?_ she thought to herself as she pushed the crate into position and latched it to the floor. If only she had the ability to remove her soul, she would be able to ask the doctor herself. As it was, she was forced to make the decision whether or not to trudge through the storage locker to the medical bay to the main deck to the poop deck and up the rigging to the mizzenmast. That seemed like a bit much, especially considering Raven had spent the better part of the day throwing various projectiles in Cassandra's direction to test her reflexes. She then remembered that Lyn was on the main deck and would be able to ask Raven should Cassandra ask the merry first mate. That still involved a lot of walking. Besides, there was no way that the black-clad woman had failed to do the task assigned to her.

By this time, she had climbed on top of a large pile of damp canvas and lay down upon it. Surely, there was no crime in taking a quick breather. Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, she calmed her adrenal system back to normal and relaxed even further. She would only be a second, then she would go offer her aid to Raven. Her limbs felt so tired, it would be nonsensical to offer help without giving them a small break. Only for a short while…

* * *

My sea passages seem to be longer than my land passages. I must remedy this.


	37. Five Equals Three Plus One Plus One

The Black Glove Pirates are at it again. This time, they have arrived at the final island in this interesting archipelago, Winter Isle. What adventures await them there?

* * *

Cassandra was violently jolted awake as the ship came to a rather abrupt halt. Pushing herself out of the indent she had made in the wall, she fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Shakily, she scrambled to her feet, wondering what was going on. Realizing that she was still in the storage locker, she sprinted up to the deck, not bothering to close the doors behind her. She arrived to see two very wet pirates leaning on the anchor winch, panting heavily. "What's going on?" she shouted, slightly out-of-breath herself.

Alexander adjusted his glasses, wincing slightly as one of the lenses shattered and fell to the deck. "We've arrived at Winter Isle, Captain."

The pirate captain looked around, realizing that they had indeed arrived on solid land. She also noticed that there was considerably more sand oon either side of the ship than there should be. "Are we-"

"I'm pooped!" Lyn chimed in. "My arms are _ti_red!"

Cassandra waved the comment aside, squinting around in the near darkness. "Are we currently beached?"

"Yes." Raven appeared on the edge of the open trapdoor beside her. "Our speed has driven us completely onto the island."

"Fantastic," the sniper muttered to herself. "And I know how Lyn is, but how are both of you?"

"Tired," Alexander confirmed, nodding for emphasis.

Raven merely stared at her.

"Fine, then. Damien!" she hollered. "You alive?"

A half-hearted growl rolled down to the main deck. Raising an eyebrow, Cassandra ascended the stairs to see him sprawled on the deck, gasping for air as if he had just taken on an entire army. Raven materialized beside her again, this time gazing at the exhausted navigator. "He has been awake for nineteen hours, forty seven minutes and se-"

"Raven, when you relay times to us, unless it's absolutely vital, please just round the numbers off," Cassandra requested wearily.

"Very well," the doctor droned. "Damien has been awake for nearly twenty hours and has been sailing against a storm for almost three quarters of that time. Regardless of how limitless his endurance seems to be, he does need food and rest if he is to recover."

Cassandra nodded. "Damien, in the bow storage unit, there should be enough meat to fill your stomach. I give you permission to eat and sleep to your heart's content." The wild man nodded and slowly climbed to his feet, stretching out his functioning arm. As he lumbered past her, her gloved hand darted out and snagged one of his dreadlocks. "But if you ever do something like that again, I'll tie you to a chain and keelhaul you."

"Lookin' forward to it," he grumbled with a toothy grin.

Raven stared after the departing navigator, obviously choosing her words carefully. "You know that threat is not going to stop him."

"Nothing I say or do could stop him from doing what he wants," Cassandra replied. "But remember that he did just get a ship from one island to another via one of West Blue's largest maelstroms. I bet he can deal with even the worst of what the Grand Line has to throw at us."

"We're going to the Grand Line?" Alexander cut in, eyes shining with excitement despite his weariness.

"But of course," Cassandra said, leaning onto the railing. "Where else would we realize our dreams? The ends of the world, Marineford and One Piece are all in the Grand Line."

"Cassandra," Raven interrupted. "We have other issues at the moment."

The pirate captain frowned at this, trying to figure out what her doctor was insinuating. Her expression never changed as she enhanced her senses, swiftly locating the cause of Raven's comment. She turned to Alexander and said with a grin, "Could you go prepare dinner for us? Something simple and quick would be preferable."

If the musician was at all confused by the sudden request, he didn't show it. Bowing his head, he departed for the galley, taking care not to put pressure on his broken leg. Staring after him, Cassandra began lightly dragging her fingertip across the wooden railing. "The three, I mean five of us have endured quite a lot. Not including the other islands, Winter Isle is probably the fifth time we've arrived in no condition to fight. I need to make sure that we're not going to die ten times over. Could you even imagine if Damien took thirty hours to cross it?"

Raven disappeared in black blur, reappearing three seconds later panting slightly. "You are as careful as ever, Cassandra, to speak in code so as not to inform our enemies."

"Thank you," the pirate captain replied cordially. "Now get out of my sight."

The former assassin dipped her head once and departed in a black blur. Cassandra noted that the doctor was becoming slightly easier to keep track of when moving at such high speeds. Either the black-clad pirate was slowing down or Cassandra's eyes were getting better. Waving the matter aside, she glanced about to make sure she couldn't see her doctor anywhere. If she couldn't, the bandits she knew were approaching would find no evidence of a fifth crewmember whatsoever. Suddenly struck with an idea, she vaulted to the main deck and bolted below, searching for Damien. Finding him sleepily gnawing on a block of meat in the bow storage room, she planted her boot onto his head, eliciting a furious growl. "Better 'ave a fuckin' good reason fer both'rin' me, Cap'n."

"Grab as much food as you can and follow me. Now."

"I jus' gotcha thru-" he began to protest.

"Captain's Orders," she snapped back. "Follow me."

She had to bend her body to the side to avoid the foot he sent flying in her direction. "I ain' goin' nowhere."

"Damien, I don't have time to argue with you. Come with me this instant!"

His eyes, teeth and claws ignited instantly, creating a frightening image in the darkness. This unsurprising show of stubbornness forced her to think of another plan. Grumbling under her breath about thickheaded navigators, she whipped out one of her throwing knives and made a shallow cut in a bag of gunpowder. She plunged her hand inside and withdrew a handful of dark grains. "Close your eyes."

Before he could do anything else, she dove behind a crate and threw out her hand. A loud bang rattled the room, followed by a surprised shout. The gunpowder weakened the floor and, combined with Damien's abnormal weight, the wooden boards gave way. She peeked over the side to see a hole blown in the floor, surrounded by black soot. Maneuvering around the crate, she glanced down the hole. "You all right there?"

Ignoring the water stretching up to his neck, Damien glanced up at her, contentedly chewing on his meal. "Push s'more food down 'ere."

"Okay, but I'm closing the hole up behind you," she warned.

The navigator nodded his head, setting it alight so she could better see his response. Remembering the lack of time she had, Cassandra pushed as much food as she could down into the hole, then heaved a crate on top of the hole. Hopefully, it would go unnoticed when the bandits inevitably decided to search the ship. The pirate captain then sprinted up to the galley, knowing that her musician would be there and suspecting her first mate would be as well.

Sure enough, Cassandra was forced to catch Lyn as she dove off of the table towards her. Staggering under the woman's weight, she turned to Alexander and quickly began to speak. "Listen to me and listen to me good. Raven isn't part of our lives and Damien fell overboard while trying to sail across Nemuartsksom. Don't!" she shouted. "Interrupt me, Lyn. I'll explain it later when we have time, but whatever you do, whatever you're asked, act like she never even existed and we lost him. Got it?"

Two swift nods.

"Good. Now, Alexander, get rid of the faces Lyn carved above the doorway as we leave-"

"Black Glove Pirates!" came a call from outside. "You are surrounded! Come out with your hands up!"

"And here they are," Cassandra muttered, raising her hands into the air. "Remember what I said."

The three pirates slowly emerged to see four men easily three times her height standing on the deck, arms folded in front of them. A fifth man, half as tall as his comrades, was standing officially before her, his chin held high. A quick scan revealed that his brown vest, pants and combat boots could hold a variety of weapons, but she knew the man was unarmed. That wasn't how the Winter Isle bandits operated, after all. Letting a disarming smile spread across her face, she kept her hands on her head and asked, "And what seems to be the problem?"

"You are trespassing on our lands and are on our watch list," the shortest man boomed. "As you have entered our territory without our permission and have slain the three scouts who reported to the area to investigate an unexpected clamor, you are hereby detained until further notice. Will you come quietly?"

"We will," Cassandra said resolutely.

The official nodded slowly as he drew out a piece of parchment. "According to my records, there should be four of you. Where is the bloodthirsty berserker known as Damien?"

Unsurprised at their knowledge of the navigator's name, Cassandra was about to respond when Lyn burst out into tears. She glanced sideways to see Alexander rush over to the sobbing woman, wrapping her in a warm hug. "Have you no shame?" he shouted angrily at the bandit. "Why must you bring him up so brusquely?"

The bandit turned to Cassandra, looking slightly nonplussed. Inwardly praising her crew for their acting skills, the pirate captain set about spinning her tale. "If you know of his name, then surely you are aware that just the night before last we were on Autumn Isle." He consulted his parchment, then nodded once. "So you must also know that it is impossible to cross from there to here in such a brief amount of time without riding close to the eye of Nemuartsksom. He thought he could deal with it and he did so admirably for most of the journey. For twenty four hours he dealt with the raging torrent, enduring the endless waves and relentless sleet. But he grew tired from the incessant battle with the sea and was forced to relax, only to be swept away by a massive wave. It took the three of us to guide this ship safely to land, but we still know that we could not have made it without Damien. So why do you bring up his memory without giving them a chance to grieve? He was their comrade and you dare speak of him this way?" Her voice trembled with thunder and her limbs shook as she glared up at the enormous bandits. _That was a bit overly dramatic_, she thought as her breast heaved with ire. _Hopefully they won't notice anything suspicious_…

The official turned from one face to the next, looking thoroughly ashamed. "It was merely procedure, you see. I meant no disrespect."

Cassandra took a theatrical calming breath, reigning in her previous temper. "I understand. But please bear in mind that we are still weary from the journey and sick at heart. We will comply with your demands, since we have accidentally trespassed on your lands, but please do not speak of Damien again."

"Very well," the bandit said, regaining his composure. "I am Commander Julian and you have entered the territory of Brian Zematsal, Lord of Winter Isle. As I mentioned previously, you are under arrest for the murder of three bandits and trespassing. Will you allow your ship to be searched."

"I will," the pirate captain replied evenly.

Commander Julian waved his hand and five bandit women leapt aboard, each of them no taller than Alexander. Cassandra watched them enter the various doors leading away from the main deck with mild interest, having wondered how the enormous men were going to fit inside the smaller doors. "I request an audience with Lord Zematsal to discuss the terms for the release of me and my crew."

"He has demanded that he see you as well," Commander Julian said immediately. "He wishes to discuss many things with you."

Cassandra tilted her head to the side slightly. "And what does a bandit king want with a lowly pirate such as I?"

"That is between you and him," the bandit responded. "Now, would you please put your hands behind your backs."

The sniper reached up, but froze as the four bodyguards moved like lightning, forming a diamond formation around her. Slowly, so as not to arouse suspicion, she completed her movement and scratched her hat, pushing it slightly farther back out of her eyes. She then put her arms behind her back, falling forward a step as the powerful bandit roughly encased her wrists in shackles. A pair of surprised cries signaled that her two present crewmembers had undergone a similar ordeal. Spreading her legs wide, she assumed a proud stance. "Are you finished?"

"Not quite," Commander Julian replied with a slight grin. "You are known to carry several weapons on your person at all time. You must submit to a full body search."

"Oh hell no," she snapped. "I am not being felt up like some street prostitute."

"Why Captain Cassandra, you offend me," Commander Julian said, his grin widening. "I would never do something so base."

Cassandra frowned. "Forgive me if I do not trust a mountain bandit's word. At the very least, have one of your women search me for weapons."

Commander Julian's smile slipped as he failed to come up with an argument to counter her logic. He brought his fingers to his lips and gave a sharp whistle, instantly summoning the woman from the men's quarters. "Search her," he commanded sourly.

The pirate captain shrugged her shoulders, sending her two throwing knives hurtling pointfirst into the deck. She did the same with the knives in her boots, catching them with her fingertips and dropping those to the deck as well. "So you don't think I'm trying to hide anything," she explained as the female bandit began patting her down.

She was forced to restrain a grasp as the woman gave her breasts a quick squeeze. Craning her neck around to see an unapologetic grin, she gave her best furious snarl. All she received in response was a wider grin. _How the hell does Damien make it so frightening?_ She turned around to see the other bandits doing their best to disguise lecherous grins. "What are you looking at?"

"I think the first mate needs to be searched as well," Commander Julian added as an afterthought.

Cassandra's eyes widened as the male bandits' noses began to bleed slightly. "Get away from her!" she shouted, stepping forward. "She's barely wearing anything anyway! There's no way she could be hiding anything!"

She fell silent as a thin splinter appeared in Commander Julian's hand, its tip pressing into her throat. "I may be kind enough to show sympathy for a lost nakama, but you are still under Lord Zematsal's authority and therefore mine. You must follow all laws and regulations. That means that all members must undergo a body check, especially when visiting the reigning lord."

"Then why did you agree to have a woman search Captain?" Alexander asked, undergoing his own full-body search.

Commander Julian cast an irritated eye in his direction. "The women I brought with me have smaller, more sensitive hands. And what have you found?"

"This one's clean," the one behind Alexander called out.

"Except for her prayer beads, which she is being allowed to keep, as is this one." Cassandra didn't like the suggestive tone the bandit used, but couldn't voice a complaint. She had shown enough insolence to the bandits and she dared not risk being incapacitated in some way. After all, Julian still had the splinter tickling her neck and only a small push would pierce her skin. She would have to appeal to the bandit lord's sense of sympathy and reason. Surely she could come up with a plan to negotiate their release.

"Continue to search the ship," Commander Julian ordered. "You three, grab the pirates. Lord Zematsal must not be kept waiting."

Cassandra remained silent as one of the enormous male bandits wrapped an arm as wide as a tree trunk around her torso, easily lifting her off the ground. A second later, the bandit leaped into the air, instantly leaving the ground behind them. The speed with which they flew through the air demonstrated the bandits' strength, as it was several seconds before they landed again on the ground. But instead of a jarring impact, all she felt was a smooth reversal of direction as he landed and jumped again. As far as methods of crossing the forested landscape went, leaping across was a very efficient one. When they entered the forest, the pirate captain wondered if the trees would impede their progress. Yet the bandits seemed to have no problem leaping from clearing to clearing with an ease that suggested the open areas were not as natural as their original appearance would lead one to believe.

But the view she got of this region of Winter Isle was simply incredible. A great forest covered the land as far as the eye could see, trees laden with melting snow. Smoke lazily curled through the air from settlements spotted here and there throughout the woods, only disturbed by the massive bandits' flight. The continuous bobbing motion reminded her slightly of riding the seas on the _Howling Knave_, albeit with a much lower chance of instantly dying to a passing swell.

She wasn't surprised to hear Lyn's delighted laughter off to her left, for even under the most dire of circumstances, the first mate could always be expected to enjoy herself. Like herself, Alexander waited in total silence. But while he was simply waiting for the travel to be over, Cassandra had to gather her wits and come up with a negotiation plan. After all, Lord Zematsal had every advantage in every aspect. What did she, a pirate captain with two known crewmembers, have to offer a bandit leader? She had only two cards up her sleeve if worse came to worst: she had the ghost of a crewmember hiding in the shadows and she knew who had killed the bandit ruler's wife.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra was so wrapped in her own plots that she barely registered the fact that she was no longer moving. As gently as he could, the bandit set her on her feet, making sure she didn't stumble across the stone floor. She gave him a slight nod of thanks as she shook life into her chilled limbs, flexing her fingers to ensure they still worked. After craning her neck around to loosen her stiff neck, she looked about to survey her surroundings.

At first glance, they seemed to be in a natural stone hallway that the _Howling Knave_ could sail through. Large torches periodically hung along the wall, filling the passage with heat and light. But Cassandra could make out arrow slits hidden in the spaces between the torches, hidden by the bright fires beside them. Glancing up to the dark ceiling, she could make out a myriad of thick spears suspended precariously above their heads. Her eyes widened as she saw an easily-identifiable figure dangling from one of the metal points, surprised that Raven would reveal herself. While it was possible only she, with her keen eyes, could see the pirate doctor, Cassandra's paranoia still wished that Raven would remain hidden. When the black-clad woman disappeared without disturbing the hanging traps, Cassandra realized that the only reason Raven had appeared was to ease her mind.

_Clever,_ she thought to herself. "Where are we going?" she asked aloud.

"Lord Zemastal does not like to be kept waiting," Commander Julian told her. "You are going to see him right away."

"Yes, but must my crewmembers go with me? They are still weary and heartsick over the loss of their crewmate."

Commander Julian looked down at her. "You seem to be fine with it."

"I am a pirate captain," Cassandra stated flatly. "I cannot let emotions cloud my judgment. Plus, sacrificing the well-being of the living out of concern for the dead makes no sense."

"That's my kind of woman," Commander Julian said appreciatively, ignoring Lyn's theatrical sob. "Though you may have to explain that to your crewmembers."

Cassandra twisted around and caught sight of the musician's mock glare. "Face the facts, Alexander, Damien is dead and nothing can bring him back. Would you rather I break down or keep a cool head and get us through this mess?"

Alexander opened his mouth, but words seemed to elude him. Luckily, Lyn jumped in to pick up where he left off. "I know you had your issues with him, but you didn't have to push him overboard!"

The pirate captain raised an eyebrow at this new addition to her story. "I did not push him over the edge. A wave swept him away."

"Liar!" Lyn shouted dramatically. "I saw you cut his tether and throw him out to sea!"

"As touching as this internal conflict is," Julian interrupted harshly. "We must get moving."

"You better keep an eye on her!" Lyn yelled as she and Alexander were led off down a side passageway. "Make sure she doesn't stab you if you turn her back on her!"

Commander Julian gave a wicked smirk as he ogled the retreating first mate. "Well, you are certainly more brutal than our reports state you are. Did you really drown your own crewmember?"

"Damien was a loose cannon," Cassandra told him as they began walking down the hallway. "His unquenchable bloodlust would have gotten me killed one day. I could not take him down on my own, so I had the sea help me out. I was cutting off a rotten branch to save a tree. Is that such a crime?"

"I guess not," the bandit commander mumbled. "Though you did mention that my so-called 'blatant' mention of his name upset you."

"If you'll remember correctly, I specifically said they needed a chance to grieve," Cassandra said lightly, admiring a particularly large stalagmite. "I said nothing of the sort about my own feelings on the matter."

Commander Julian looked up as he reflected on this. "My apologies again, I guess."

The rest of the trip was spent in blissful silence, which allowed Cassandra to thoroughly analyze her surroundings. The bandits had truly done a marvelous job of carving a home into the mountain itself. The natural rock transitioned into a smooth stone floor, causing their footfalls to echo loudly. Doorways occasionally spotted the walls and other bandits of all sizes could be seen and heard wandering everywhere. At the sight of Cassandra's small entourage, however, they all bowed their heads and retreated slightly, letting the quartet pass by.

Before long, they arrived at a massive wooden door that filled the entire hallway. One of the enormous bandits accompanying her walked up to the door and pounded his fist on the door three times. Cassandra heard a myriad of projectiles suddenly focus on them, an impressively quick response time in her opinion. It would be extremely unwise to exit in this direction, she noted. One of the side routes, perhaps, but this central was certainly suicide.

But the doors began to emit various loud clanks and clacks as the locks began to disengage. Little by little, they began to swing open, revealing the area behind them. Cassandra was forced to duck her head against the glaring light that poured forth from behind the massive doors. Glancing from side to side, she noticed that the other three bandits seemed unfazed by the luminous opening, choosing to face it head on. She also saw that all of the other people in the area had scattered, apparently desiring not to be around the entrance.

"Welcome to Lord Zematsal's capital city of Winter Isle," Commander Julian told her as the doors opened wide enough for them to pass through. Cassandra gave him an indifferent look, unimpressed with the enormous city carved into the mountain's core. Buildings of stone and wood rose from the floor, twisting into the air like screws. Bridges teeming with people crisscrossed above their heads, forming an airborne map of the city. High above them all, the mountain was abruptly cut off, remaining open to the sky outside. Sunlight flooded in, drenching them all in light. Frowning, Cassandra made out a ring of mirrors surrounding the opening, reflecting the sun's rays into the mountain even while the sun was setting.

For a brief moment, Cassandra hoped they would simply walk to the central spire, in which Lord Zematsal certainly resided. She would even settle for climbing up to the bridge by one of the countless ladders descending from the stone skyways. As she expected, one of the bandits lifted her up and they were once again flying through the air. Miraculously, despite the amount of other bandits also leaping from place, to place, they managed not to collide with one another. Commander Julian and his two soldiers hopped from bridge to bridge, weaving through them with a practiced ease that Cassandra grudgingly envied. She had been able to maneuver so easily once, albeit using a length of rope. If, or rather when, she got out of this situation, she would definitely work on regaining her previous agility.

Minutes later, they finally alighted on the highest level of the gigantic stone building. Firmly grabbing her wrists, Commander Julian turned to his men and dismissed them with a wave of his hand. The two guards bowed deeply and hopped off the landing pad, disappearing from view. Turning back around, Commander Julian bent over and put his mouth beside her head. "Remember, you are about to meet one of the three reigning lords of Winter Isle. Whatever he says is law, no matter how you protest or if you desire otherwise. Any disrespect is punishable by instant death. Any funny business and you will be hurled off of the summit of this mountain. Are we clear?"

"Transparently," Cassandra said levelly.

Nodding with satisfaction, Commander Julian frog-marched her through the large doorway and into the rock citadel of Lord Zematsal. The pirate captain allowed herself a small grin, for despite the dire circumstances, she was being given the chance to atone for one of her sins earlier in life. If she managed to get her crewmembers out of this mess, she considered this trip to Winter Isle annulment for her previous crimes.

With that thought in mind, she walked into the chambers of the bandit lord with her head held high.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"I spy with my little eye something… big!"

If Alexander could put his hand to his face in despair, he would have. Why was he always left to babysit the energetic first mate? Had he insulted the spirits at some point and this was their punishment? It seemed like no matter the situation, the artist always found her way to his side and clung there like a leech. Watching over her felt like even more work than it was to keep Damien alive. _Okay, that's not entirely true_, he corrected himself. _She's certainly easier to keep entertained than he is. Her antics are also less likely to end up with some rogue coming after my head_.

"C'mon Alexander!" Lyn whined. "You have to guess!"

"The bandit?" the musician sighed.

He didn't even have to look at her to know her eyes widened at this. "How did you guess so quickly?"

"You've chosen the bandit every time so far," Alexander explained wearily. He needed rest more than anything right now. Maybe spending some time in a nice warm bed for once instead of those hammocks. Not that he had anything against hammocks, for tilting back and forth with the rocking of the ship while sleeping seemed like an unattractive concept to him.

"But that's because they're so _big_!" Lyn exclaimed, then peered up at the man leading her forward. "How big are you?"

"Five thirteen," he rumbled in response, looking pleased to have answered such a simple request.

The artist looked back down, nodding her head enthusiastically. "See? Super huge! It's so cool!"

"And they can probably bench press the _Howling Knave_," Alexander told her. "Now will you please-"

As he heard the words leave his mouth, he realized what a poor choice of words he had used. Instead of cutting short Lyn's interest in the size and power of the bandits, he had increased it tenfold. The first mate turned fully around, managing to walk backwards while goggling up at the mountain bandit. "Wow! Could you really lift up the _Knave_?"

"I don't know if I could," the bandit mumbled ashamedly. "Clyde probably could though."

"It's only one of those small caravels, right?" the other bandit asked. "I bet he could."

Alexander crinkled his nose to push his glasses back up. "I believe it is a moderately sized galleon. It may appear small because you both are taller than the Black Glove Pirates standing on each others' shoulders, but it is a decent sized ship."

"But how come only the three of you live there?" one of the bandit asked. "Even if it is not as small as we say, shouldn't it be hard to maintain with only three crewmembers?"

At this, Lyn's face fell and her smile vanished like the sun behind a cloud bank. Alexander had to stifle a grin of his own as he watched one guard elbow the other and softly chide him for being so tactless. He had thought that Lyn would forget about their secret crewmembers, but the artist had been a flawless actress since the bandits had boarded the ship. Deciding to play his own part, he fixed a reproving eye on the bandits and mouthed, _Please don't do that again_. "Come on, Lyn," he murmured soothingly, edging as close to her as the bandits would allow. "Damien went out doing what he loved to do. As much-" He let his voice break a bit. "As I miss him, as much as you miss him, you know he died without a single regret."

"I guess," the former nun mumbled back.

"And nobody will ever replace him, but he does have a point. We do need other crewmembers. And think of how fun they'll be?"

"That's true…" Lyn muttered, her face slowly regaining its usual luminosity as she looked up at one of their escorts. "Wanna join?"

"No thanks, little lady," the bandit replied with a chuckle. "And here we are, the place where you'll be staying while your captain speaks with Lord Zematsal."

Alexander peered around the room, doing his best to scan for any sort of surveillance equipment. Not finding any, he bowed his head and turned to his captors. "Thank you greatly for allowing us our own space. Could you please leave us alone so we might get some rest?"

The bandit nodded and crouched down, pinching the handcuffs between two enormous fingers. Alexander raised his eyebrows as the shackles crumpled like tinfoil, falling to the floor with a metallic clang. Absentmindedly rubbing his wrists, he watched as the guards retreated through the massive doorway, closing the door behind them. After making sure they were gone, he let out a breath he seemed to have been holding since they left the ship. "Thank goodness that's over. I didn't know how long I could keep this up."

"It's not that bad," Lyn told him, eyeing one of the large holes carved into the wall. Deciding that the mattress inside it seemed safe enough, she took a running jump, landing heavily on it. "At least they haven't killed us or something."

Alexander gave a non-committal grunt as he sat down on his own bed. "They haven't fed us yet, though."

"Yeah, but I grabbed a snack on the ship," Lyn chirped, feeling the rock around her. "I wanna go to sleep… tell me a story!"

"No, Lyn," the musician replied wearily, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "I'm just as tired as you are. How about we both get some rest?"

"C'mon!" Lyn whined. "Captain and Raven told me stories to go to bed!"

"Lyn…" Alexander warned.

"Pleeeeeeeease?"

The alchemist rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Did they tell you true stories or make them up until you fell asleep?"

"They told funny stories!" Lyn announced. "_Then_ I said my prayers and went to sleep!"

"Ah. In that case, how about I tell you a short story of when I was growing up, then we both say our prayers and go to sleep?"

"Mmhmm! Mmhmm!" Lyn's head bobbed enthusiastically. "I wanna know about how you and Damien became best friends!"

Alexander began taking off his suit as he spoke. "Well, that's not that interesting of a story. My family had just moved there from a different island and we started off in the same school. I walked into the classroom and one kid was sitting in the corner, staring at the forest. I was new and he looked lonely, so I went over to him. But just as I reached him, a horde of pirates ran by the window, whooping and laughing, while being chased by a pack of wolves!"

"Wolves?" Lyn gasped.

"Indeed," Alexander nodded sagely. "I turned to the boy and said, 'That was weird.' He looked at me and said, 'That _was_ weird.' We were the best of friends after that."

Lyn waited for a moment, but the alchemist seemed to have finished his story. "That's it?"

Alexander gave a wry grin as he unbuttoned his shirt. "What did you expect? Believe it or not, Damien was much less hostile before the Marines razed our island. When he rescued me from that house, the falling timbers pierced him clean through. One of them penetrated his head, which must have screwed up his brain. It was a miracle he survived."

"You say 'miracle,'" Lyn muttered, rolling onto her back and staring at him upside-down. "But you said there were shamans on your island."

The alchemist blinked twice. He had forgotten that he had already told the other pirates of the mystical men and women on his home island. "That's right. They managed to keep him alive by linking his life to the spirits he collects."

Lyn frowned. "You mean, he actually stays alive longer because he kills people."

"Yes," Alexander said slowly. "And no. He derives some of his power from those he kills and that helps him in combat, but he does not directly survive off of killing people. My sonic attack works the same way, you know. I summon spirits and their cries of support help me."

"That would explain why I felt your presences so easily," the first mate murmured. "Is that why you pray each night?"

Alexander nodded. "And you pray for…?"

"My parents, my friends back home, you guys," Lyn listed happily. "The great spirits protect you all!"

"Why thank you, Lyn," the musician told her. "I feel just that much safer under their protection."

The female pirate gave her trademark radiant grin as she rolled off of her bed and knelt on the floor. "Okay, it's praying and sleeping time!"

Alexander nodded and knelt by his own bed. "I warn you, my prayers take quite a while."

"That's okay!" Lyn said brightly. "I can just watch until you're done!"

Giving a grin of his own, the alchemist closed his eyes and both of them began to chant quietly so as not to disturb the other. It was only respectful, after all.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"How can they be this clean?" asked one of the bandits searching the _Howling Knave_. "You think they'd be partying every night or something, being pirates and all."

"I hear you," another called from the men's quarters. "It's even neat in here."

The bandits regrouped on the main deck, staring unhappily at each other. The female lieutenant rubbed her face, thinking of what to say. "Did any of you find anything?" Four shakes of the head. "Well shit. Commander's not gonna be happy about this. He wanted at least some dirt on the pirates."

"Couldn't we just make some up?" came a voice. "A man held captive in the brig or disembodied heads lining the crow's nest?"

The bandit lieutenant frowned, eyeing the speaker. "There's a brig?"

"Well, it's a sea-worthy ship, so there's gotta be," the bandit reasoned.

"Did any of you notice this?" Another four shakes. "Well, let's check it out. It should be directly below the lower level, right?"

The quintet of women filed down the trapdoor and spread out once more, searching for any signs of another floor. A shout from the bow storage unit drew the other four bandits in a flash. They all stared quizzically at the hole blown into the floor. "This seems suspicious," one of the bandits offered.

The leader dropped down into the brig, listening to the sound of her landing echo throughout the cavernous space. She stared around, trying to discern any detail in the complete darkness. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she walked to the stern and back, only seeing random squares of wood scattered about. She was about to make another lap when a shout attracted her attention. "Hey Lieutenant! You might wanna come look at this."

The bandit marched back to the bow, where another one of the women was pointing at a peculiar hole in the hull. Peeking through it, she saw a dark river of sand stretching away from the ship. It was almost as if water had flown out of the brig and back out to sea. "The hull must have broken when they ran ashore," she reported. "That's something we can hold against them, I guess. I doubt one of those three is a shipwright, so they can't sail away from here without repairs."

The other four women nodded and joined their lieutenant as they began leaping back towards the mountain.

* * *

It looks like the Black Glove Pirates are trapped and separated once again. Will I ever let them fight as one unit? Only time will tell...


	38. Bandit Lords and Old Friends

And to kick off this new year, another chapter of the Black Glove Pirates.

* * *

Cassandra stepped through the enormous double doors and into the room of the bandit leader, Lord Zemastal. Her hazel eyes scanned the room, noting every detail. The room easily a hundred feet or more in diameter with twenty enormous guards spaced periodically around the perimeter, all of them wearing dark maroon armor. The finest purple silks hung from the ceiling, though they offered neither protection nor a place to hide. Elaborate paintings hung from the walls, each larger than the sails of the _Howling Knave_. The ceiling twisted upwards in a smooth cone, vanishing into darkness.

But what concerned the pirate captain the most, aside from the lack of escape routes, was the enormous throne rising towards the back of the room. Or rather, the bandit reclining in the chair, one leg draped over one throne's arm, one elbow propped on the other. He was scanning a piece of parchment with a bored look in his grey eyes, absentmindedly chewing on the roasted haunch of some dead ungulate. A gold crown rested askew on his shaggy blond hair, its triangular emeralds glittering in the firelight.

When Commander Julian cleared his throat, the bandit lord glanced up, his eyes losing their dull glaze. Setting the parchment aside, he stripped the remaining meat from his meal and pushed the bone into his mouth. Smacking his lips contentedly, he wiped the grease from his gold rings and sat up. "Greetings, Captain Cassandra. I am Lord Brian Zematsal."

Cassandra smiled disarmingly as she walked onto the expansive purple and gold carpet. "I greet you in kind, Your Lordship. May I ask how you became informed of my presence?"

"I know many things, Captain Cassandra," the bandit lord boomed as he got to his feet, surprisingly standing only slightly taller than Damien. "For example, you were first seen on Alamentia, where you recruited a rebel nun, Lyn Mojigata. From there, you traveled west to the island on which Commodore Rickard Slatch was stationed. You acquired two crewmembers, Alexander-"

"I am well-aware of my own history, Lord," Cassandra cut in, drawing a sharp glance from Commander Julian. "But I cannot deny that you speak the truth. Winter Isle is connected to the World Government, then."

"I pay my taxes like any good citizen," Lord Zematsal said with a grin. "And I am privy to any information it might have about wandering criminals in my region of the seas."

Cassandra frowned slightly. "I have committed crimes against pirates. As mountain bandits, why do you care for the sins against those lecherous seafarers?"

"If I cared about those, your head would be on the way to Marineford as we speak," the bandit leader chuckled. "But one of my visiting lords expressed interest in you, so I thought I must see this pirate for myself. How could such a pirate, no, a woman infuriate the World Government so quickly after emerging into public knowledge?"

"Shar D. Bol is a female pirate," Cassandra reminded him.

"And you do not have a brother who was King of the Pirates," Lord Zematsal retorted. "Instead, you slew the son of a Shichibukai and violated the rules set by pirates, then fled the island, fell prisoner to that bastard Juyon, escaped them as well, then grappled with Otan's mercenaries and crossed the maelstrom Nemuartsksom to get here in under a day."

Cassandra patiently waited until she was sure he had finished. "You seem to enjoy listing my past accomplishments."

"It is not often that I meet a woman with such a résumé," Lord Zematsal said, grin widening. "Though I wonder how long you will last without your navigator."

"Why must everyone bring up the dead?" Cassandra snapped. "I will survive just fine without him."

"Oh?" Lord Zematsal cocked his head to the side. "And how do you propose to do that? Women are known for the sharpness of their tongues, not their swords."

"And your reports surely show that bullets, while more blunt than blades, are arguably more lethal. Why let threats get within arm's reach when they can be eliminated at a distance?"

The bandit lord moved so quickly, even Cassandra's keen eyes had trouble keep track of him. She leaned ever so slightly to the side, barely avoiding the thrown projectile. She glanced back, eyeing the hole bored into the wall. "Although when my hands are bound and my weapons confiscated, it is difficult for me to retaliate."

"The situation cannot always be to your liking," Lord Zematsal told her, dusting off his hands. "To pick up a different topic, why are you on Winter Isle, Captain Cassandra?"

"We have visited Summer Isle, Spring Isle and Autumn Isle," she replied easily. "My former navigator insisted on visiting all four islands before leaving the archipelago."

"But why would you try to cross Nemuartsksom? Surely you are aware of the power of the maelstrom and that it is foolhardy to use it simply to arrive at your destination sooner. It is possibly the worst natural occurrence in West Blue and you sailed directly into it."

"We were escaping the Otan Mercenaries and a few irate Sea Kings," explained the pirate captain. "The former were merely persistent while the latter posed a significant threat to the ship. Only Damien could possibly deter a Sea King and he could not deal with more than one at a time. Escaping via the maelstrom was the only option."

Lord Zematsal leaned over slightly. "But you did not have to go so close to the eye."

"You sound like you are concerned for my health," Cassandra said suspiciously.

"Not at all," the bandit lord chuckled. "It is simply interesting that such a recently-emerged rookie would attempt one of the most difficult navigating challenges in West Blue, not to mention irritate the World Government so quickly."

"It is not my fault the World Government despises pirates," Cassandra retorted. "I am a pirate because I have no inclination to remain in one place or sell my services for gold."

"A Marine does none of those things," Lord Zematsal noted. "Yet you chose to adopt a criminal lifestyle."

Cassandra grimaced. "I would not join the Marines if my father got down on his knees and begged me. Not only have they committed atrocities against one of my crewmembers that cannot be forgiven, but they are too closely tied into a past that I would rather forget. And I am too proud to take orders from another authority figure. Besides, the most renowned title in the world is King, or in my case Queen, of the Pirates. Now that I have such a dream, I would do anything to accomplish it."

Lord Zematsal crossed his arms. "I see. It is unfortunate that you chose such a path. You may have shown promise and a talent that could be refined into something fearful and deadly, but bandits are known neither for their generosity nor for their liking of pirates. Have you reflected on these facts?"

"Surely you do not expect me to remain on Winter Isle for the rest of my days," Cassandra told him.

"The rest of your days may not be a very long time if your tongue cannot control its impudence," Lord Zematsal said sharply. "And you still do not seem to grasp the gravity of your situation. You are wanted by the World Government that we bandits are a part of, you are a pirate among bandits, a woman among men and are under my rule at the moment. How do you expect to escape? I know every inch of this island, even the parts I have no control over, and my bandits can traverse the terrain much more quickly than you can."

Cassandra could think of no immediate response to this.

"Right now, you are only alive because of my interest in you. You would do well to remember this fact. Any of my men would crush you in a single blow if I gave the word. Your crewmembers are in a similar situation as well. By now, they should be sleeping fitfully in one of the myriad of rooms in this mountain. How do you hope to find them in this enormous labyrinth that spans the entire mountain? Or would you plan on abandoning your entire crew and beginning anew?"

"I would find a way," she answered lamely.

"You are completely at my mercy," Lord Zematsal reminded her, his grin returning. "The only way to keep yourself alive is-"

His grey eyes snapped up as a tentative knock issued forth from the enormous double doors blocking the entrance to the throne room. Commander Julian instantly strode over to the door, opening it just enough to eye the intruding person. Even with her naturally enhanced hearing, Cassandra could not detect the faint conversation passing between the bandit commander and the person on the other side of the door. However, judging by the smile creeping across the bandit's face, the news would certainly not lift her spirits. Graciously thanking the hidden person, Commander Julian closed the door again and strolled over to the bandit leader, who listened intently to the words spoken into his ear. Cassandra's hopes fell as the bandit leader's grin broadened and he began to speak.

"Well, Captain Cassandra, it looks like another nail has just been added into your metaphorical coffin. Your ship, the _Howling Knave_, seems to have experienced some hull damage upon running ashore. Although this information should have been told to me beforehand…" He glanced sharply at Commander Julian. "You now have no way of leaving the island period. I will admit, we were only planning on confiscating your ship, but I think we shall now leave it on the shore as a warning to other optimistic seafarers who dare approach my shores."

Cassandra mulled over this information while she spoke. "Leaving her for some wandering pirates to fix is a bad idea, is it not? Why abandon her on the shore when your reputation serves the purpose of intimidation and more?"

"You mean, why should we bring it to someplace where it can be fixed without our knowledge?" Lord Zematsal asked. "I think not, Captain Negras. Your ship stays where it is, its only remaining fate disrepair and decay. It might have taken you far into the Grand Line, but it has no hope for it left."

"I'm sorry," Cassandra cut in. "But did you say she experienced hull damage as she ran ashore? I saw no such damage upon departing from the ship."

"Nor did I, Your Lordship" Commander Julian piped up, eager to redeem himself in front of his leader.

Lord Zematsal let his eyes rove from one face to the other, pondering this information. "I am not an expert on the specifics of seafaring ships, much less yours, but I would imagine the weight of the water in the ballast was enough to cause any timbers weakened by running ashore to break."

_Or a supposedly dead navigator clawed his way out_. "Then I truly lose to you, Lord Zematsal," Cassandra said wearily. "How am I to spend the rest of my life here?"

"Well…" the bandit lord trailed off for dramatic effect. "At the moment, my interest in you is waning. You might provide some entertainment in some form or another," he looked over her body again. "But there is another lady who wishes to meet you. I have not decided which will come first."

"And what of my crewmembers?" Cassandra asked. "They have committed no crimes besides aiding and abetting. At least grant them some mercy, even if you spare none for me."

"I think not!" Lord Zematsal's laughter boomed throughout the cavernous room. "From what I hear, your first mate is quite an attractive woman. But she does not interest me as much as your musician. After all, if he can turn sand into water and wood into metal, he can surely perform some alchemy to fascinate me. And if not, his head might help get your ship's message across."

Cassandra opened her mouth to protest, but felt that she was already on thin ice as it was. She could deny none of the reasoning that had gone into the bandit leader's decision; were she so inclined, she would have done the same to her crewmembers. "Then I have nothing left to offer you. Do with me as you will."

"That's much more submissive than your previous attitude," Lord Zematsal informed her suspiciously. "You might be a pirate, but you are first and foremost a woman, and women are not above tricks to remedy a situation that is not to their liking."

The pirate captain's eyes snapped up and filled with ire. "My gender has anything to do with the misfortunes I have encountered throughout my travels and you have stripped any tricks I might have away from me. I would be careful with such assumptions, Zematsal."

She could practically see his good mood evaporate instantly. "Do not presume to advise me so basely," he growled. "Lark! Where are you, boy?"

A guard stepped away from the wall and walked over to the bandit leader. Even after kneeling down, he towered over Lord Zematsal, almost causing Cassandra to laugh at the appellation the bandit lord had given him. "Yes, Your Lordship?"

"You are the newest of my personal guard, yes?" A quick nod. "Very well then. I wish to see how well you obey your lord's orders. Kindly dispatch this prisoner and bring her two crewmembers to me." Eyes flashing, Lord Zematsal turned to Cassandra. "I may even reward you if you manage to survive, pirate. Lark, do your worst."

"Yes, Your Lordship." Standing up to his full height, Lark turned and eyed her critically. "I am prepared to slay you instantly, Captain Cassandra. Do not take it personally."

Cassandra decided it was time for her to make her move. Taking advantage of the fact that there were no bandits behind her, she began to flex her gloved hand while she attempted to stall for time. "I assure you, I have no interest in being killed here. I _will_ become Pirate Queen and dying in such a way is not acceptable. Voluntas Carnae!"

Lark leapt high into the air, reaching the curved ceiling far above them. When he began plummeting back to earth, the pirate captain could see he was holding a massive stone sword above his head and decided she would rather avoid the downward slash. While the blow would be powerful if it connected, it was an obviously linear motion that could be easily dodged. Cassandra neatly sidestepped the stone weapon, ignoring the rock shards from the floor that peppered her legs. As the bandit guard swung his sword around, she hopped onto his brown blade, barely balancing on the accelerating weapon. Growling with irritation, Lark brought his other hand around, intent on smashing her against his sword.

"Not good enough!" Cassandra shouted as she jumped off, dodging the bandit's attack. "Manus Lavernae!"

She landed behind him in a crouching position, her hands crossed in front of her. For a moment, nobody moved. Lark suddenly lurched forward, slamming onto the stone floor. Blood began pouring from the length-wise slit in his carotid artery, running into the cracks he had left in the floor. Ignoring the aggression suddenly focused in her direction, Cassandra got to her feet and stared at the two bandits before her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but I, a manacled woman, just brought down a fully-prepared and armored male bandit. Does that not count for something?"

Commander Julian was almost purple in the face and was very clearly about to attack her, but he was halted by the gold-ringed hand thrust in his path. Lord Zematsal's interest in her had been piqued once more, it seemed. "Very good, Captain Cassandra, very good! I don't suppose you would explain how you managed to do such a thing?"

"What would I get in return?" Cassandra inquired curiously, removing her manacles and rubbing her wrists.

The bandit lord gave a booming laugh, slapping his thigh in amusement. "Even with the knowledge that I could recapture you and torture you to find the answer, you find the audacity to ask for something in return! I have rarely met a woman as remarkable as you, Captain Cassandra."

Cassandra bowed her head at this compliment.

"Very well, then. I shall not only postpone the meeting between me and the other two pirates, but you shall meet the lady who requested to see you. In fact, I will even grant you your own quarters for the night! How does that sound?"

"Your Lordship, you are too kind," Cassandra said, deciding that being polite would keep him from rethinking his promise. "Back on the _Howling Knave_, when Commander Julian over there had me searched, he missed a very crucial device of mine concealed in my glove." She flicked the minuscule knife into her hand, showing it to both bandits. "While we were traveling here, I took advantage of my lack of supervision to probe the lock on my handcuffs. I was given quite a long time to do so and I managed to unlock them. From there, it was simple to avoid Lark's attacks and to counterattack in turn."

Lord Zematsal clapped appreciatively as a livid Commander Julian caught the cuffs thrown in his direction. "Most excellent! Julian, would you kindly escort Captain Negras to her quarters and see that Lady Ora finds her."

"But Your Lordship-" Commander Julian began.

The bandit lord's eyes hardened as he turned to his commander. "You will do as I say, Julian. We also have to discuss the thoroughness of the searches you perform on those entering my throne room."

Cassandra had seen beetroots with paler complexions than Commander Julian's face at the moment. "As you wish, Your Lordship," he hissed through clenched teeth, before rounding on the pirate captain. "Come with me, Captain Cassandra."

"Why thank you," Cassandra told him, giving her sweetest smile. Now that she knew she had a shot at surviving and that the bandit commander no longer had power over her, she knew she would have great fun tormenting him. "Please take care of me."

"You are dismissed," Lord Zematsal boomed, ambling back towards his mighty throne. "Now, where did that list of late shipments get to?"

No less than three bandit guards rushed up to him as Cassandra and Commander Julian left the throne room and closing the great double doors behind them. As soon as the bandit lord was out of sight, Command Julian whirled her around and pinned her against the wall. "How dare you make a fool of me like that!" he sputtered, quivering with rage. "I warned you and-"

"Get your hands off me," Cassandra ordered, her own eyes narrowing. "You heard your lord. Take me to my quarters."

"How dare you!" Julian screamed as quietly as he could, spittle spraying from his lips. "How dare you! You're lucky Lord Zematsal is so interested in you, or else I'd-"

"Spare me your threats, Commander Julian," Cassandra commanded. "I know very well who is keeping me alive right now and you are not that person. I know that you may go behind my back and lie to Lord Zematsal about my behavior, but I cannot account for the lack of honor among bandits."

Commander Julian's face paled ever so slightly. "Do not speak to me of honor, pirate. Was it not you who violated the rules at Summer Isle set by pirates? Bandits have more honor than you, you can be sure of that. And no matter how much I would relish throwing you to the wilderness and watching you perish, I am indebted to my lord and would never disobey him. You are not worth breaking my oath over."

"Now that we've gotten that established," Cassandra muttered, straightening her black outer shirt. "Take me to my quarters. I wish to meet this Lady Ora who wishes to speak to me."

"It would be my pleasure," Commander Julian snarled, tucking her roughly under his arm. He began sprinting along the corridor, soon arriving to the outer layer of the enormous stone spire. He leapt into midair without slowing his step, recklessly flying into open space. Cassandra's heart flew into her throat as they plummeted towards the distant ground, which seemed to be solely comprised of spiked roofs. But as much as she hated the feeling that she was falling to her certain doom, she knew that Commander Julian wouldn't kill her like that, especially after his little tirade earlier.

Sure enough, whether by luck or design, they managed to land directly between to enormous houses, narrowly avoiding being impaled on their roofs. The bandit commander launched himself into the air once more, easily making it onto a nearby stone skyway. He began weaving between them to his destination, his face regaining its original color with each passing second. Cassandra was once again forced to marvel at the ease with which he moved through the area without running into any of the other bandits, though she thought she could have done a better job if she had his strength.

Eventually, they reached the perimeter of the enormous city, halting where one of the rock bridges connected with the gargantuan stone wall. Commander Julian set her down and they walked down the hallway, leaving the bustling city behind them. They began navigating through a tangled snarl of passageways, passing by other bandits once in a while. Such a labyrinth may have confused any other pirate, but Cassandra kept careful track of the path they had taken. While escaping directly might be impossible, she could at least make it to the main city if she needed to.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they arrived at a large chamber near what Cassandra assumed was the edge of the mountain. Commander Julian shoved her inside the room, almost causing her to lose her balance. "Your visitor will arrive shortly. Make yourself comfortable."

Sighing as the door closed and the bolt slid into place, the pirate captain cast a glance over her surroundings. It was not inhospitable, but she would have preferred a window or two. As it was, the walls stretched far above her head, vanishing into darkness. She was almost thankful of this fact, for she was certain Raven could find a way inside and hide up there for a bit. As it was, she was alone and had to find a way to pass the time. Sighing, she pulled off her red cowboy boots and set them in front of the door. She lay down on the mattress-covered slab of stone by the far wall and pulled her hat over her eyes, thinking deeply about the current situation.

She had barely finished categorizing her advantages and disadvantages when a light knocked issued forth from the door. "Come in," she called out, eyeing the door out of her peripheral vision.

The door creaked open, knocking over the boots placed by the door. A tendril of lavender silk swept into the room, followed by another and another. Soon, a veiled head poked out from behind the wooden beams, obviously looking around the room. Cassandra didn't move a muscle, simply watching the cautious lady. Slowly but surely, the door opened wider and Lady Ora entered the room, filling it with a peculiar fragrance. As quietly as she could, she shut the door behind her and turned to face the prone pirate captain.

What Cassandra did not expect at all was for the woman to suddenly dash towards her and leap into the air like a cat. The sniper's first instinct was to attack back, but a peculiar tingling sensation shot through her left hand, filling her with confusion. Going against every impulse in her body, she allowed the lady to land on her amid a flurry of silk folds. She was even more surprised when the lady lifted her high enough to wrap her in a hug.

"I knew it!" the dark-skinned lady shouted joyfully. "I knew it was you! Only you could manage to piss off the entire world so quickly!"

Cassandra's eyes widened as she recognized the lady's voice. Managing to disentangle her arms from the voluminous dress, she swept the veil away to reveal a familiar face. "Jennifer? What are you doing here?"

The woman's golden eyes glittered in the lamplight. "Well, I'm on here on an official mission and one of my contacts catches wind that a bounty-less pirate is on the way here and that Lord Zematsal is ordered to apprehend her. Imagine my surprise when the pirate is no other than Captain Cassandra of the Black Glove Pirates! I knew I had to postpone my assignment to see you!"

"But how did you know it was me in the city?" Cassandra asked, bewildered.

"I felt you," Jennifer said, calming down slightly. "And you felt me, right?"

"I did," Cassandra assured her. "But I had no idea who it was."

Jennifer giggled like a schoolgirl hiding something from her teacher. "Isn't this fun? When you were banished, I thought for sure you'd go underground or something. I never thought I'd see you again!"

"Me? Go underground?" Cassandra scoffed. "There was no way I'd do that. I have a dream now, to become Pirate Queen!"

"But how are you going to do that?" Jennifer asked, sitting beside her. "Your crew is trapped somewhere else!"

Cassandra was about to respond when she caught sight of a small scrap of paper drifting down from above. Lightly pushing her friend aside, she reached up and snatched it out of midair, letting her eyes rove over it. A pleased smirk spread across her face as she realized what it was.

"What is it?" Jennifer asked.

"It's a map of this part of the mountain, complete with guard patrol locations and possible exit routes," Cassandra explained proudly, showing the paper to her. "That's how I plan to become Queen of the Pirates."

"But how?" Jennifer gasped, snatching the map and gaping at it. "How did you do that?"

"When your contact told you about me, did you find out my crewmembers by any chance?" Cassandra asked with a grin.

Jennifer lightly hit her in the arm. "Come on, Cass, you know I hate it when you do this?"

Cassandra only widened her grin.

"Fine," Jennifer sighed. "You have Lyn the first mate, Damien the deceased navigator and Alexander the musician."

"Not only is Damien not actually dead, but you actually missed one," Cassandra informed her.

She didn't even have to look to the side to know her doctor had appeared beside her, causing Jennifer's eyes to widen. "Raven!"

"Guinevere Bast, the fourth of seven," Raven droned emotionlessly. "I am not surprised to see you here."

"But I am to see you!" Jennifer cried, clapping her hands excitedly. "Everyone was shocked when you disappeared shortly after Cass did!"

"I owe her," Raven deadpanned. "So I am her doctor."

Cassandra scowled at her. "You owe me nothing and you know it. Jen, why exactly are you here? What's your assignment?"

"Well…" Jennifer trailed off. "Since you've given away your hidden cards and I know how you hate doing so, I'll tell you. I'm technically here to assassinate Prince Goratsal-"

"Who resides in a different part of the island," Raven cut in. "Surely you know that, at least."

"Of course I do," Jennifer huffed. "But I also have orders to eliminate Commander Otto in Zematsal's mountain as well, and he's quite difficult to get to. Unlike Commanders Julian or Sejure, he operates mostly in the shadows. That's why it's kind of important that he's taken out."

The pirate captain leaned back. "And how do you propose to do that?"

"Well, my plan was only half-baked, but I didn't expect you two to be here, which changes everything."

"I assume in exchange for freeing Cassandra and her crewmates, you expect us to aid you," Raven said.

Cassandra swiveled her head around to stare at her black-clad friend. "I think she'll help us and we'll help her because we're all friends."

"Would you? Pleeeeease?" Jennifer pleaded. "I could do it on my own, but I haven't seen you in ages!"

"How do we know you are not a spy sent by the World Government to kill us?" Raven asked.

Rather than taking offense, Jennifer burst out into laughter. "You haven't changed a bit, you know that? But surely you should know that because of the bond we share, I would never dream of harming one of my own sisters? After all, were it not for that bond, we would not be having this conversation."

"This is true," Raven murmured. "Cassandra, I leave this decision to you."

"And I'll be happy to help you," the pirate captain said immediately. "Some basics first: Lyn can remove her spirit and her fighting ability is slightly above average while Alexander can use alchemy and sonic attacks. Where is Commander Otto located, do you know?"

"Lemme see that map." The lavender-robed woman spread the parchment over the thick mattress, letting her finger trail across the ink lines. "He should be somewhere above the main entrance, which is not too far from here. Unfortunately, it is some distance from your crew and that could be problematic. As for escaping, I think the fastest way would be through the sewage lines."

"I concur," Raven droned. "One of the main pipes lies almost directly beneath Alexander and Lyn. However, there are none near Commander Otto, which makes your escape quite difficult."

Cassandra grunted in agreement. "So getting Alexander and Lyn out is relatively easy. The sewage entrances are well guarded, but they do not expect people to tunnel through a hundred feet of rock inside the mountain itself. I think this pipe would dump them a mile and a quarter from the _Knave_, but keeping them from being caught will be a challenge."

"If we finish with Commander Otto quickly enough, I will be able to aid them when the time comes," Raven provided. "Cassandra, your escape will be difficult."

"I know," the sniper muttered. "However, if I'm the last one to reach the ship, we don't necessarily need to keep things secret at that point. Jen, what are the limitations to Otto's mission?"

"Him dead," she shrugged. "Nothing special. Nothing like what I have to do with Goratsal. Can you believe I not only have to make it Lord Zematsal's fault, but I have to do it during the Tri-Lord Banquet they're hosting? That place is going to be crowded with guards and I'm no poisoner."

Raven glanced over to her. "Focus, Jennifer."

Cassandra groaned aloud as she remembered something from her meeting with the bandit lord. "Forget about how I'm going to get out of here, the _Knave_'s shipwrecked," she recalled. "Damien tore a hole in the hull at the very least large enough for him to fit through."

"I told you having him as a crewmember was a mistake," the doctor droned.

Jennifer pondered this for a second, then her golden eyes lit up and she began babbling excitedly. "I think I know of a man who we can unwittingly recruit to help us. Prince Zematsal, for whatever reason, is currently taking an unplanned trip to another island. He ran away sometime last month and most of his bodyguards have been reassigned. However, one of his best and most devoted men is trying to find a way off the island to find him. Can't remember his name, but I'm sure if you said you're going to Reichmann Island, which is where Prince Zematsal was last sighted, he'd be willing to help you."

"I am going to Reichmann Island," Cassandra stated. "It's on the way to Reverse Mountain and unless the bandits were charitable enough to leave provisions aboard the _Knave_, we're going to need to dock there to restock our supplies."

"That's even better because you won't have to lie to him!" Jennifer exclaimed. "Though I'm not sure you would care if you did have to lie."

"Not in the slightest," Cassandra said offhandedly. "But I assume he can fix a hole in the hull since you brought him up."

Jennifer rolled her eyes. "Of course he can; he's a Winter Isle bandit. These people can make practically anything out of anything!"

"Point very well taken," Raven droned. "Can we count him as one of our assets?"

"If we can, I think he can break us out of the mountain after we've finished with Otto," Cassandra said. "Okay, so here's the plan so far: Alexander bores a hole through the pit of his cell and into the sewer line, where he and Lyn begin traveling to the ocean. Us three will pay Otto a brief visit, after which the Prince's bodyguard will carry me to the _Howling Knave_ while Raven speeds over to help Alexander and Lyn."

"I give you permission to severely wound me in order to avoid suspicion," Jennifer chimed in. "But not too severely."

"Of course not," Cassandra assured her. "Sounds okay to me. Have I missed anything?"

Raven turned to face her. "Damien is still somewhere on Winter Isle. How do you expect to find him?"

"I can track him down," the pirate captain said confidently. "As for getting him to the ship… well, I'm sure I can think of something or other, depending on what mood he's in."

"Sounds like you've got everything," Jennifer muttered. "Then it's settled. Tomorrow at noon, Lord Zematsal will summon you. I'll intercept you on the way and we can go kill Otto."

"I will describe the situation to Lyn and Alexander now," Raven deadpanned. "They will depart tomorrow."

"And I just have to not die," Cassandra finished. "We clear?"

Jennifer smiled bright. "Let's move, sisters! With the three of us, there's no way we can lose."

* * *

That's it for this time. Tune in next chapter and see what happens next.


	39. Escaping Again

Well, that was a longer break than I expected it to be. Hope I didn't cause too many of you to spend entire sleepless nights wondering what would happen next...

* * *

Of the three pirates being held inside the gigantic mountain fortress, Alexander was the first to wake up. Although he would have preferred to remain asleep, something in the back of his mind told him that waking up was necessary at this point in time. After ignoring it for some time, he finally gave in and allowed himself to ascend from the world of dreams. He decided to keep his eyes closed in case that little something decided to quiet down and he could go back to sleep. However, something entirely different told him that opening his eyes would be the smart thing to do. Grudgingly, he did so.

What he was not at all prepared for were the emotionless onyx orbs of the ship's doctor a hairsbreadth from his own. After quashing the urge to scream out in shock but still starting violently, he took a deep breath and asked shakily, "And why did you feel the need to scare me as soon as I awoke?"

"Here is a horn," Raven droned, completely disregarding his question.

Alexander sat up and, after locating and putting on his glasses, saw that she had indeed placed a brass horn in his lap. "And what am I supposed to do with this?"

"The sewer tunnel you will be escaping through is directly downwards," she told him, again ignoring him. "Can you turn stone into air?"

"Tried it once and it didn't work," he shot back before attempting to get a question in edgewise. "But how-"

"Then you will just have to tunnel downwards as fast as you can and pray your Devil Fruit power does not fade away," Raven cut in. "Wake Lyn up when you are ready."

"But-" Before he could say another word, the black-clad woman vanished. Alexander was tempted to stomp his foot in frustration, but that seemed way too childish. Sighing instead, he swung his legs over the side of his bed and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, there's no way this can go wrong," he grumbled sarcastically. "Lyn, are you awake?"

"If cat plus words equals picture, why do I laugh?" came the half-coherent reply.

The musician glanced over to the bed in surprise, before hastily fixing his gaze on the complete opposite side of the room. How had he not known that Lyn slept naked and kicked off her covers despite the fact that they had lived on the same ship for some time now? _I am a gentleman_, he reminded himself. _I don't need to be ogling my crewmates_. "Lyn, wake up. We need to leave soon."

The nude first mate sleepily rolled over and poked her head out of the bed hole. "What is it, Alex?"

"Alexander," he corrected automatically. "And it's time to leave."

"But I was having the best dream ever!" Lyn exclaimed. "See, there was this cat-"

The first mate suddenly remembered why he didn't like babysitting her. "Lyn, let's play the quiet game for a moment, okay?"

"Captain loves to play that game!" she shouted loudly. "And right after we wake up too!"

"I bet," Alexander mumbled. "Now, put some clothes on. Do you recall what Raven told us yesterday?"

The blue-eyed woman bobbed her head. "We have to go in the sewers. But you and I can't fit through a toilet and the guards wouldn't let us leave the room at the same time."

"That's true," Alexander conceded. "So we're going to be tunneling out. But I'm going to need you to hold on to me so I sink quickly enough, okay?"

At this, Lyn bounded off her bed and wrapped Alexander in a tight hug. The alchemist's face flushed a dark red as he felt her breasts press against his back and he froze as stiff as a board. "Lyn, I'm absolutely positive I told you to put on clothes first. So if you wouldn't mind…?"

"Oh yeah!" She leapt off of him and ran about the room, collecting what clothing she had haphazardly discarded the night before. In doing so, she tripped over the tray of food positioned by the door, scattering its contents across the floor.

Alexander stared at the mess with dismay as his stomach gave a mighty growl. "I could have eaten that, you know," he moaned aloud.

"Huh?" Lyn asked, glancing down as she tied on her bikini top. "Oh! Sorry! I think some managed to stay in the bowl."

The musician cautiously made his way over, maneuvering so as to keep the dressing first mate some distance away from him. True to her word, Lyn had managed to avoid the porridge bowl somehow. _Well, some food is better than no food_, he thought as he picked up the bowl. "Do you want any?"

"Nuh-uh!" Lyn chirped. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Alexander had to make sure.

Lyn looked at him. "Positive. You need the energy most, after all."

He stared at her, mildly surprised at the woman's thoughtfulness. Then again, she was the first mate. It was also technically her duty to keep the crew in shape. Nodding gratefully, he picked up the spoon and began to consume the lukewarm porridge. He was interrupted from his eating when Lyn piped up again. "I am thirsty, though."

"You knocked over the water cups," Alexander pointed out.

"Can't you make me some?" Lyn pleaded. "I'm super thirsty!"

The alchemist sighed and gestured her over. "Bring me that cup."

Lyn skipped over to him, snatching up the cup he had indicated. She extended her hand and opened her mouth, obviously expecting him to pour it into her mouth. Rolling his eyes, he held the cup over her outstretched tongue and concentrated. "Eau Magie."

The stone goblet dissolved into clear liquid, splashing across her face. The first mate caught most of it and began swishing it around, shaking her head from side to side. Eventually, she swallowed and gave her trademark radiant grin. "Tastes magicky!"

"It tastes just fine," Alexander informed her indignantly, having resorted to drinking his own water on more than one occasion. "I only convert things into their purest form. Anyway, let me finish eating and we'll be off."

The first mate waited as patiently as she could, drumming her fingers on the ground and staring about the room. The silence between them was inevitably broken when she asked for charcoal and received an annoyed "no" in response. She withdrew into a childish pout, folding her arms and sticking out her bottom lip. She resolved to remain in this position until he either apologized or made her something to draw with. Preferably both.

Five minutes later, Alexander repressed a burp bubbling up his throat and put the bowl down. He knew what the first mate was doing, but he had no intention of losing this standoff. Damien was just as stubborn as Lyn was, albeit more prone to burning things down or destroying his surroundings when he was bored, and Alexander had outlasted him on more than one occasion. So he merely leaned back against the wall and stared at her levelly. "We're not leaving until you're done sulking."

"Not sulking," she mumbled, ignoring how immature she sounded.

"Have it your way." The alchemist placed the horn Raven had given him on his stomach and folded his hands over it, closing his eyes. He began to compose a small piece for his new instrument, despite how crude it was and its inevitable destruction due to its less durable structure. As music was not only his pastime but also one of his main forms of combat, he had no problem passing the time this way. The only time restraint they were under was to escape before the guards came knocking again.

Sure enough, he eventually heard shuffling noises, indicating Lyn had moved. "Are you ready to go?" he asked without opening his eyes.

Her response was a blast of hot breath right on his face. He opened his eyes to see the first mate dragging her finger across his lenses, having fogged them up the moment before. Sputtering indignantly, he sat bolt upright, throwing her to the floor. Removing his spectacles and staring at them, he made out the words _Hi Alex!_ written backwards through the mist. Glaring sightlessly at her as he rubbed his glasses against his shirt sleeve, he growled, "That was completely unnece… oh never mind. I assume this means you're ready."

Lyn's head bobbed up and down as she stood at attention, her hand brought up in a firm salute. Alexander sighed as he finished cleaning off his glasses and got to his feet. "When I begin to dig by turning stone into water, I'm going to need you to follow right behind me. Otherwise, you're going to be dropping one hundred feet and probably onto solid rock. And can you pull the bed cover on top of us to conceal our exit? It will delay them temporarily."

"Works for me!" the former nun confirmed, before adding, "Actually, I have another idea. Just make the hole and I'll do the rest! Don't worry; I'll still be right behind you."

Alexander decided to trust the first mate's word and walked over to his sleeping area, pushing aside the remade blankets. He crouched down and, after tucking the horn into his jacket pocket, put his hands on the smooth stone surface. He took a deep breath and began mentally preparing himself. "Ready?"

"Just a sec!" He looked up to see Lyn crouching right beside him, holding the blankets above her with both hands. Wondering what the first mate had done, he realized that she was holding the upturned tray below the sleeping pad. The tray had been filed down into a flat stone circle, which would fall onto their hole and disguise it even more successfully. Nodding respectfully to the hyperactive woman, he closed his eyes and channeled every drop of energy in his body. "Eau… Magie!"

A second ticked by. Then five seconds.

Sweat began beading along his body as he pushed harder than he had ever pushed before.

Ten seconds.

His eyes were screwed shut as he concentrated on reaching the sewer line far below.

Fifteen seconds.

His shirt was sticking to his back and his palms nearly slipped, but he had to hold on.

Twenty seconds.

His lungs began burning for air, but he dared not breathe out and disturb his concentration.

Twenty five seconds.

His limbs were shaking violently.

Thirty seconds.

He needed to breathe.

Forty seconds.

He was almost there.

Fifty seconds.

He felt that he had reached the pipe, but the hole he would create was not nearly wide enough.

Sixty seconds.

Just a little more.

Seventy seconds.

A little…

Eighty seconds.

More…

Finally, after almost a minute and a half, he gave one extra push and a wide circle of stone shimmered and turned into what seemed like glass. He immediately began falling, but felt that he was okay. He had successfully tunneled farther than he had expected he could. He was about to give a victorious smile when he suddenly realized how tired he was. All of his energy seemed to have been sucked out of him. The last thing he registered before falling deeply unconscious was Lyn's delighted laughter.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Fuckin' shitty cuntin' tree!" Damien's day had gotten off to a great start. He had woken up in a comfortable clearing to the bright spring sunlight. After realizing that he hadn't eaten in hours, he had set about searching for a meal. The first animal he saw was a rabbit that disappeared below ground the moment it felt the earthshaking landing from his jump. The second was an enormous goat he had chased for nearly half an hour before losing across a ravine.

The third animal, the one that became his meal, was the large red bear that had stood its ground. He had fought with the animal for quite a while, for its thick fur made it difficult to land damaging attacks and seemed to repel his fire with ease. Eventually, he had broken its neck by leaping on top of it and proceeded to consume his meal with gusto, ignoring the profusely bleeding slashes covering his body.

Once the bleeding had stopped, he had decided to look for something to quench his thirst. The nearest river he had seen was around a massive column of wood and the quickest way to said water was through said tree. Unfortunately, while he normally bulled his way through trees, he simply had bounced off of this one. This had offended him greatly, for he didn't like it when things were better at defending than he was at attacking. This led to his current situation: cursing loudly at the tree while trying to figure out how to hurt it.

"There ain' no fuckin' tree tha' can' be 'armed by fire!" he announced as he reared back. "Diavolo Drago!"

He threw his head forward, sending a fireball erupting from his mouth. His temper further worsened as the fire splashed harmlessly against it. Flicking out his claws, he leapt forward and drove them into the tree, but was shocked to discover they had only left a shallow scratch. He retreated slightly to figure out his next move when something completely unexpected happened.

The tree began to move.

Now, Damien was from an island currently occupied by shamans, so he was used to unexplained occurrences in nature. However, everything he remembered from school, which was very little, and from living on his home island, which was quite a lot, told him that trees do not move unless they are being destroyed. He had very little time to contemplate this phenomenon when the tree lifted off of the ground. He stared at the base of the tree, which bore an enormous paw he had previously assumed was merely a cluster of waist-high boulders. He glanced upward to see if the tree was connected to anything at the top as well.

Sure enough, there was a dark collection of branches from four trees, too closely knotted together to have grown independently of one another. He quickly realized that a massive triangular shape was lowering towards him and took one more step back to get a better look at it. His hackles rose as two enormous yellow eyes snapped open and the bottom of the shape dropped away to reveal a cavern of jagged yellowed teeth. He finally put together the pieces of the puzzle and gave a demonic grin.

He had awakened some sort of animal easily as large as a baby Sea King. And by the look of bestial power in its eyes, it wanted to play with him. Fuckin' awesome!

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra frowned as she straightened her hat in the mirror the bandit guarding her door had helpfully provided. She would have liked to have at least one more chance to meet with Lord Zematsal before her escape, if only to discuss the fate of his dead spouse. Alas, such a meeting was not to be. Escaping the mountain was already going to be a difficult task; escaping the bandit lord's throne room would be nigh on impossible. Plus, he had been so courteous for a bandit. She was especially appreciative of his fatal curiosity, having been kept interested in her enough for her to squeeze through his fingers and escape. Despite the slight desire to meet him one last time, she was ready to leave the mountain and sail the salty sea again.

She took this moment to reflect on her opinions of piracy, having been questioned about them throughout her travels. While before she might have been uncertain about her profession, she had no doubt in her mind that she wanted to spend the rest of her life as a pirate. To her, being a pirate meant control over one's own life and fate and having the freedom to roam the seas. Of course, that required a certain degree of power to elude the omnipresent World Government, but she did not have a crewmember she didn't believe would betray her or fail to live up to their duties. Every one of them had the potential to be great fighters and great sailors. Some just required more guidance than others.

"Ready?" one of the bandits boomed from outside her door.

"I am," she replied, flexing her fingers in her black leather glove. "Thank you for allowing me the time to prepare myself. I must admit, I'm slightly nervous to go before His Lordship again."

The bandit guard gave a grin as he clapped a pair of handcuffs on her and escorted her from the chamber. "Don't worry, little lady. If you survived your first visit with him, you stand a much better chance of surviving the subsequent ones."

"That's a relief," she told him. "I was scared for a moment that he would hate me because I'm a woman and a pirate."

"Not because you're a woman," he assured her. "Maybe because you're a pirate."

"His fears are well-founded," she admitted as they rounded a corner. "After all, pirates can be very treacherous and wily, female ones doubly so. Don't worry; I won't try anything."

The bandit began to respond, but instead lurched to a halt with a dazed expression on his face. His partner glanced to the side and put out his hand. "Hey, you all right?"

"I doubt it," Cassandra said conversationally. "I would guess he has only a few seconds left to life."

The enormous man reacted instantly, but it was too late. A black humanoid shot down from the ceiling, slamming its palm into the base of his skull. The two bandits hit the floor at the same time, forcing Cassandra to retreat slightly or be squashed by the enormous guards. "Though I should have said the same for you. Good to see you, Raven."

The former assassin extracted her waspknife from the bandit's neck and stood up. "Alexander and Lyn have left. Has Jennifer arrived yet?"

"I haven't seen her," Cassandra replied, glancing around. "Have you been slowing down lately?"

"Your eyes must be getting sharper," Raven droned, resheathing her weapon. "If I were a Marine assassin, you would be able to see me with ease."

"Then I have a challenge for you." The smaller pirate glanced up at her. "Keep ahead of my eyesight for as long as possible."

Raven blinked. "I accept your challenge."

"Very well then," Cassandra said, extending her hands towards her doctor. "Jennifer should be here in a few moments. I can hear her clearly and she doesn't seem to have any companions."

Sure enough, the assassin rounded the corner at full sprint, sliding to a halt before the two women. After panting heavily for a moment, she stood up straight and gave a cheery grin. "I heard that you were being led to Lord Zematsal and knew I had to free you. But it looks like Raven took care of that. Here, I got you something to eat."

Cassandra easily caught the thrown apple and brought it to her lips as she eyed Jennifer's outfit. It was much like her assassin clothing, black with shades of blue and brown. A utility belt was wrapped around her waist, but none of the pouches and tubes attacked looked big enough for a weapon. Her dark brown hair was arranged into a simple bun, exposing the circular birthmark on the back of her neck, a nearly black circle that was almost unnoticeable against her chocolate skin. Frowning, she looked up and asked, "And last time I checked, you were not a close combat assassin. How do you expect to kill Commander Otto?"

Jennifer's grin widened deviously. "It's payback time for the map thing, Cass! How do you think I'm going to kill him?"

The pirate captain sighed. "Well, you can't disarm him because Winter Isle bandits don't carry weapons. You might try to engage him in hand-to-hand combat, but if your face or hands get hurt, your value as a Bast assassin would diminish." Jennifer waited patiently as Cassandra seemed deep in thought. "Therefore, there are only three possibilities that I can think of. One, you want us to kill Commander Otto for you, but that can't be because you would not have been dispatched here if you depended our assistance. Two, you have mastered the art of creating weaponry from your surroundings like the bandits, but I doubt that is the case. Though for your family, it would be a worthy skill to learn."

"And three?" Jennifer seemed barely able to restrain herself.

Cassandra smiled. "Three, you have consumed a Devil Fruit, though which one I can't even begin to imagine."

The assassin's golden eyes glittered happily as she clapped her hands together. "You're right! As usual, I guess. My family had to search long and hard for this one and it cost them nearly half a billion Beli."

Cassandra's eyebrows shot up. "That's quite a sum, even for your family. It had better be a Logia for that price."

"Nope! Paramecia!" Jennifer informed her.

"Well, I'm stumped," Cassandra admitted. "What Paramecia fruit have you eaten that is worth half a billion Beli?"

Jennifer put her hands together and closed her eyes. After concentrating for a moment, she nodded and spoke aloud. "Ary Mat."

The sniper watched in amazement as she spread out her hands in one sharp movement and a long kusarigama spun into existence. "Impressive."

"Say hello to the eater of the Buki Buki no Mi," Jennifer boasted as she snatched the weapon from midair and wrapped it around her arm. "I'm a Weapon Lady. I can create any weapon I want."

"That's incredible!" Cassandra exclaimed, spitting out a few apple seeds. "Now I can see why your family wanted it so badly. You'll never have to smuggle weapons in because you can make your own, which fits perfectly."

"It's true," Jennifer said proudly. "Each assassin family has a particular fruit that would bolster their particular method of killing and-"

"Mine does not," Raven cut in.

The assassin glanced down at her. "Well, excuse me. Most families have a Devil Fruit that exactly complements their assassination method. Most of the time, we don't get them. But the last known eater of the Buki Buki no Mi died some time ago and it just reappeared on the black market within the past year."

"The former owner must have been happy to become a near-billionaire," Raven droned.

"Indeed. Plus, the Buki Buki no Mi is one of the hidden fruits, kept secret from even the World Government."

"So you won't show up on the list of known DF users." Cassandra shook her head in amazement. "You are truly a lucky one." She pointedly ignored Raven's gaze as she turned down the hallway. "Now, I believe there is someone who needs to be killed?"

The three women began running down the hallway, a single goal in mind. Jennifer led the way, her weapon loosely coiled around her shoulder. The two pirates followed behind her, keeping an eye out for any guards who might have seen them. They moved like a trio of eagles, as quickly and as elegantly as possible. Any bandit in their way, whether civilian or soldier, were mercilessly cut down. They cared not for the bodies they left in their wake, only that nobody would spread word of their charge.

They soon arrived at a flat section of rock and paused to catch their breath. After composing themselves, they turned to face the wall and waited. Jennifer turned to Cassandra, who turned to Raven, who turned to Jennifer. "Well?" the pirate captain asked after a lengthy silence.

"I thought you would have a way to get inside," Jennifer replied.

"And how would I do that?" Cassandra snapped. "I cannot reason my way through solid rock. I have two men that can do that for me."

"Well, he is on the other side of this wall," Jennifer sighed. "I had another, more elaborate plan in mind, but I scrapped it when you two came aboard. Do either of you have a way to get through this?"

Raven stepped in between them. "I might be able to damage the wall. Will you be able to knock it down then?"

"I bet we can," Cassandra told her. "So what do you want us to do?"

"Stand back." The black-clad doctor retreated to the opposite wall and bent her legs slightly. "Fra Pogalm"

She twisted around on the ball of her left foot and her right leg dissolved into a black blur. What surprised Cassandra was the solid beam of blue-white light that shot out of the blur and slammed into the wall. Less than a second later, Raven stopped and let her leg fall. Jennifer went over to admire the deep slashes while Cassandra held out her hand to her doctor. "Are you okay?"

"I am fine," Raven droned, her fingers lightly grazing her captain's as she balanced on one leg. "I have only attempted that attack twice, both times against Damien. My leg must rest for a moment."

"My turn. Ary Hhadj," Jennifer announced, clapping her hands together and spreading them to reveal a large mace. Hefting it as her kusarigama faded from existence, she reared back and took a wild swing. The wall shook slightly, but otherwise remained unharmed. She took another swing, this time causing it to crack. She swept the weapon back and prepared for a third swing, but before she could hit the wall, it exploded outward. Cassandra dove forward to push Raven out of the way as large chunks of rock penetrated the opposite wall, tumbling across the ground. The pirate captain looked up to see Jennifer swing her mace around, driving the metal head into the bandit's kneecap.

"Here," Raven murmured, pressing her silver knife into Cassandra's fingers. "Do not worry about me."

"Very well," the sniper said. "Voluntas Carnae! Manus Lavernae!"

She leapt forward to stab the bandit guard right above his shattered knee, twisting it to ensure maximum damage. Yanking it from his leg as he instinctively dropped his weapon to clutch his wounded knee, she leapt forward and spun around, cutting his throat from ear to ear. Jennifer gave a wide grin as the pirate captain landed beside her, panting slightly. "I see you have not lost your touch. Ary Mat."

"If I am to be Pirate Queen, I must be able to defend myself," she shot back as her friend's kusarigama materialized once more. "Let's go."

The room before them was filled with gadgets and Den-Den Mushi, all glowing in the gloom. The two women stepped onto the smooth metal floor, pushing aside a bundle of wires that had come loose during their destructive entry. A single chair near the end of the room swiveled around to reveal the very man they were trying to assassinate. Commander Otto had his fingers folded and regarded the intrusion with calm eyes. "Oh dear. I assume you three little girls are here to kill me?"

Cassandra shuddered as Raven limped into the room and sent an enormous wave of killing intent in his direction. The bandit leader contorted his face, obviously shaken by fear, and stumbled out of his chair. "We are here to kill you," Cassandra snapped. "Do not think lightly of us because of our size and gender."

"Apparently not," he grumbled, rising to his hands and knees. "Let's see how well you've prepared for this moment."

He slammed his fists onto the ground, sending up large chunks of metal. In one swift motion, he opened his vest pulled out a variety of tools and seized the two largest pieces out of midair. The shrapnel peppered the screens behind him, destroying them with a flurry of sparks and temporarily blinding the assassins. Cassandra in particular was affected, for the sudden change of light was particularly painful for her enhanced vision. She recoiled mightily, falling to the floor amid a cluster of wires and cables.

"Look out!" came the cry somewhere off to her left. She kicked as hard as she could off of the wall, narrowly avoiding the weapons slamming into the ground where she had been a moment before. Shaking her head and blinking rapidly, she staggered to her feet and let her eyes adjust to the gloom once more.

"Hornet's Nest!"

"Mat Djew!"

Jennifer was single-handedly dueling the bandit, using the range of her kusarigama to keep him at bay. Commander Otto was ducking and weaving with ease, the two stone fists he had made held up in front of his face. Cassandra took a step forward, but was forced to grab onto a damaged surveillance console as her leg threatened to give way. Frowning, she realized that a sliver of rock a good six inches long was stuck into her thigh, preventing her from moving efficiently. Growling in irritation, she jerked it out and cast it aside, shuddering slightly as she willed the waves of pain to subside.

By now, Commander Otto had backed Jennifer into a corner, where the gold-eyed assassin was fighting valiantly to stay out of harm's way. Needing to help her friend out, Cassandra gripped her dagger and darted forward, keeping pressure off of her left leg. The bandit commander must have heard her approach, for he whirled around and threw a lightning fast jab in her direction, shouting, "Bee sting!"

"Fulmen Fulgorae!" She ducked under his fist and tried to weave tightly around him, but the second fist sent at her made her change her course. Rebounding off of the stone wall, she leapt into the air while Jennifer swung her scythe around in a long arc. Commander Otto deflected the pirate's attack with an elbow to the gut, sending her crashing into his chair, and let the scythe embed into his stone glove. He swiftly disarmed Jennifer with a sharp flick of the wrist, but the assassin was unfazed.

"Ary Khet Khad!" She stabbed her long spear forward, which Commander Otto had to suck in his gut to avoid. He nimbly hopped backwards, then leapt forward, raising his hand into the air. Jennifer tried to attack, but he simply drove his fist through the spear, splintering it instantly. Cassandra crawled out from underneath the desk and tried to get up, but her legs refused to work. Only one person could save Jennifer now.

"Kraur Golnauk." Raven materialized between the bandit commander and the assassin and received the full force of the punch. Although she was sent crashing into the wall, she managed to slow Commander Otto's attack enough for Jennifer to dodge out of his reach.

The bandit was furious, gazing at the three attackers with ire-filled eyes. "Won't you bitches ever die?" he snarled.

"Sisters never abandon each other," Jennifer declared as she created a deadly-looking sickle.

Cassandra got to her feet and cricked her neck. "Yeah, that was painful. What do you say, should we finish him off?"

"Finish me off?" Commander Otto stared warily at them. "You have been doing pretty badly so far."

"We aim to remedy that by beginning to act synchronously," Raven droned, extracting herself from the wall and landing sloppily on the floor. "Fra…"

"Oldest on top!" Cassandra shouted, crouching into a ready position. "Manus…"

"Mat…" Jennifer wound up.

Commander Otto looked decidedly uncomfortable with the developing situation and began top hop up in down to prepare for the incoming attack. "Butterfly Dance!"

"Lavernae Khad Furtun!" Four things happened at once: Cassandra leapt into the air, Jennifer swung her sickle, Raven twisted around and Commander Otto attempted to dive to the side. However nimble he proved to be, he could not avoid three simultaneous attacks from three different directions. Cassandra flew clear over him, but Jennifer's sickle buried in his side and Raven's blade of blue-white air bit deeply into his arm. He roared in pain as he landed on the ground, doing his best to roll to his feet.

But once wounded and near immobile, he was an easy target. Two knives flew straight and true, embedding in his soft ocular tissue. Howling in pain and sudden shock, he reared back, only to be silenced as Jennifer reached her sickle around and viciously dragged it through his throat.

For a moment, everything moved in slow motion. Commander Otto's body slowly fell to the floor, hitting the metal tiles with a muted _thump_. The three assassins stood stock still, silently appraising their grim work. Cassandra was the first to react, pulling both knives out of his eyes and passing them to her doctor. Jennifer leaned against the wall, putting a hand to her heaving chest. Raven merely stared at the motionless corpse.

"We must be going now," Cassandra announced, using a scrap of the bandit commander's pants to wipe blood away from her skin. "Jennifer, go out in the hall and I'll make you a victim."

"Lyn and Alexander undoubtedly require my attention," Raven droned, dematerializing into the gloom.

The gold-eyed assassin slowly walked out into the hall, slumping down against the ground. "Just like the good old days, right Cass?"

"Just like old times," the pirate captain agreed, hefting her friend's fabricated weapon. "And just like old times, I still have to run."

"At least," Jennifer winced as she unfolded a slim dress from one of her pockets and began shedding her assassin's clothing. "At least you're running to something this time instead of away from something. Remember, the man who will help you escape should be just down the corridor. He'll be easy to spot; he's the one in the white armor."

Cassandra nodded, patiently waiting for Jennifer to finish changing. Once she was finished, the sniper threw the dark clothing over her shoulder and looked down at the disguised assassin. "Forgive me for the harm I will inflict upon you."

Jennifer merely grabbed her in a firm hug, tears beginning to bead along her closed eyelids. "I forgive you, sister. We will live to see each other again and we will be stronger than ever before. This is the promise I make."

"And that is the promise I will keep." Cassandra briefly pressed the back of her gloved left hand against the back of Jennifer's neck, before stepping backwards and lifting the sickle into the air. "Until we meet again, Jen."

* * *

Is that the last we'll see of Jennifer Bast? Will Damien survive his encounter? How will Lyn react to what is essentially a vertical water slide? Only I know at the moment, but you will soon enough.


	40. Annoying Obstacles

Those finals were brutal. Sometimes, I really, really hate college... Oh well. At least I had some time to write.

* * *

Cassandra stalked down the corridor, watching the sickle in her hand fade from existence. She had done her best to avoid hitting any major arteries or nerves, but the weapon had been unwieldy and she wasn't sure she hadn't maimed or scarred her friend. However, there was no time to check to see if a slash had permanently injured Jennifer. She had other men and women to take care of, pirates who depended on her more than the gold-eyed assassin ever would. So, swallowing her fear and worry, she straightened her hat and continued walking.

She soon reached an expansive intersection and looked around. The only man she could see was one probably three times her height, clad entirely in a bright white suit of armor. Stopping before him and gazing upwards, she asked, "Are you the former bodyguard who will fix my ship in exchange for passage to Reichmann Island?"

"I am," he boomed, crouching down to decrease the height difference between them. "And I assume you are done killing whoever you needed to so you could escape."

Cassandra frowned at the implication behind his words. "And do you expect me to do anything different? I did the best I could with what I had."

The massive man grunted. "I suppose. Come, Black Glove Cassandra. Let us depart."

"Before we leave, I must learn your name," she cut in. "And be truthful, for whether or not you answer me honestly will determine the trust I put in you henceforth."

Nodding, the bandit lifted his visor enough to expose the bottom part of his face. Cassandra barely had time to examine the scar cutting diagonally across his lips before he stuffed a large sandwich into his mouth. Chewing loudly, he finished his snack and swallowed. "May I simply tell you my first name?"

"So as not to give away what family you belong to," Cassandra reasoned. _Not that it makes much of a difference. None of Prince Zematsal's guards have the same name_. "Very well; I'll allow it."

"I am called Cain," the man told her, rearing up to his full height. "Are you satisfied now?"

"Aye," Cassandra muttered, deep in thought. "Can you simply carry me for a while? I will need to track down my navigator, but he should not be too far from the shore."

Even with his face hidden, Cassandra could sense the man's puzzlement. "You lied about your navigator's death. Why?"

"Damien is a pain in the ass to order around," Cassandra said dismissively. "There is no way he could cooperate with some escape plan. It's better that he never be captured than risk him not following orders at such a dire time. Now please, let us leave."

Apparently satisfied with the answer, Cain reached down. Cassandra sat down on the offered hand, barely noticing him lifting her into the air and gently bracing her against his breastplate. The enormous bodyguard turned around and punched a hole in the mountain wall with his free hand, leaping through it and into the air. Trusting him to avoid trouble, for he would be punished as severely as she would if they were caught, Cassandra began planning her next course of action.

_Cain Alcides, assigned to Prince Zematsal five years and four months ago, just after the murder of Queen Zematsal_, she recalled from his file. _He was trained to be a Winter Isle guard for nearly twice as long before that. Spotless record, too. No known instances of insubordination or disloyalty. So he's a well-trained fighter who I can trust not to go back on his word. You certainly helped me out, Jen._

_However, there is the slight issue about getting to the _Howling Knave. _If we get recaptured, there is no chance that we will be able to escape again. The odds are we have kill-on-sight orders from Commander Julian, but I doubt that we'll encounter anybody. I guess that's one of the advantages to being escorted by one of their highest-ranking members of their military. Lyn and Alexander should be fine, though Raven was injured against Commander Otto and she won't be able to get to them as quickly as originally expected. Those two are in for a fight, because I'm positive the sewer entrance is being guarded. Hopefully, Raven should get there in time._

_Damien is undoubtedly alive and I am positive he can survive on his own in the wilderness. Tracking him down amidst the villages should be a challenge, so hopefully he hasn't strayed too far from the ship. And there are probably some people guarding the _Knave_, because although Lord Zematsal did say he would leave it alone, I'm positive it was because he didn't expect us to escape successfully. Cain will be fixing the ship and Lyn and Alexander will probably be exhausted, so that leaves Raven, Damien and I to defend the ship from bandit attacks. Raven should not have too much trouble against them and Damien should be able to hold his own. If I can get to my rifle and pistols, I should be able to lend ranged support without being overcome_.

_I can't believe I'm going for a plan that depends this much on luck. If Lyn or Alexander was recaptured, if Damien got himself killed, if Raven ran into unexpected trouble, if Cain delivers me to different bandits and repairs the ship on his own… there are so many things that could go wrong. I guess that's what being a pirate is about, trusting your crewmembers and hoping the luck of the sea doesn't desert us now. But even with all of this, I still would rather be a pirate with a foolhardy plan than an assassin with a foolproof one. Gods, I hope this works_…

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Hmm…" Lyn hummed aloud. "I've done fingerpainting, stone carving… well, sorta… and even some songs! Now it's time for… umm… limericks! Let's see… My captain's a good little lass, who'll surely… no. Who'll… Who doesn't appreciate sass. This can be bad… 'cause we've got a lad who would enjoy kicking her ass! Although you keep saying he wouldn't do that. I dunno, even I like sparring with Captain. Although that's probably because she won't let me paint her all the time. But you'd know about that, wouldn't you?"

She glanced at the portly man draped across her shoulders. "Yessir, Mr. Prude. You never let me do anything artistic involving you. Don't you find that a bit strange, considering you're a freaking musician? I mean, as weird as it is, you're the most artsy pirate besides me. Shouldn't you be more willing to help me in my art projects?"

Alexander's lack of consciousness prevented him from responding. "Well, it's settled then. I'm carrying you out of here, so you owe me a painting. But you did do the tunnel thing, which did get us into this literal shithole…" She glanced at the foul-smelling sewage flowing beneath the mesh catwalk. "So I guess we're even. But if anybody shows up and I have to fight them off, I consider that a favor. I bed you'd argue that you couldn't help yourself, but that's the point, isn't it?

"I wonder what you can turn stuff into, though. I know you can do water and metal, but I've also seen you do rock and glass. I bet you could do gold or something. I know! How about air or ice or wood? Those seem useful. If we had Damien, you both could make us a campfire! Though Damien himself is a campfire, so we wouldn't need another one."

The former nun's electric blue eyes snapped up as a peculiar sound echoed out from the darkness before her. Pausing and adjusting the unconscious musician on her shoulders, she put a hand to her waist, then remembered she didn't have her rapier. Sighing, she began inching forward cautiously, straining her eyes in the dark tunnel. If only she could see in the dark like her captain could; that would be so cool! But her sense-enhancing thing did enhance every sense, so she'd probably pass out from the penetrating stench. But Captain did have really good eyesight even without her "Wombat's Karma" or whatever.

The noise came again, but louder this time. It sounded like a scuttling-screeching mixture, one she knew quite well. After all, this was not her first little escapade through a sewer system. If only Alexander would wake up and she could tell him of the time when-

She let out a clipped cry of shock as two glowing yellow eyes suddenly appeared before her. Staggering backwards, she slipped on a patch of muck and landed heavily on the catwalk. She instantly realized that the musician had tumbled from her shoulders and was rolling steadily towards the edge of the narrow walkway. Reaching out, she managed to grab ahold of the back of his suit jacket, just barely stopping him from falling to the polluted river below them.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned around to see the little pair of eyes drop to the mesh floor as well and gaze curiously up at her. Chuckling slightly, she reached out and offered her hand to the little creature. "Sorry about that. I didn't expect you to appear so suddenly. I didn't scare you, did I? I'm not really afraid of rats; you just scared me to death!"

The small rodent tentatively sniffed her outstretched fingers before turning to look up at her again, squeaking loudly. Giggling at the dark rat, Lyn leaned over a bit farther and managed to grab it by the tail before it could slip away. She gently brought it onto her other hand and let it fall to her palm. Much to her amusement, instead of bolting away as soon as she released it, it reared back onto its hind legs and chattered indignantly at her as if admonishing her.

"You remind me of him," she laughed, jabbing a thumb in Alexander's direction. "He never lets me do anything fun. I do one little thing and I get my ears talked off because of it. I'm sorry, little guy. I'll be more gentle this time."

The rat bounded off her hand and back onto the catwalk, twisting around to stare at her. Lyn sighed and sat back, wiping her hand on the musician's jacket. "Fine. I get it. You want space. Is that what you want, for me to leave you alone?"

It merely gazed at her then turned around and began sauntering into the darkness. The first mate sighed and climbed to her feet, bending over to bring the portly musician over her shoulder. She began slowly walking down the walkway again, then paused as she caught sight of her rodent friend again. Frowning, she leaned against the railing of the catwalk and stared down at it. "What's your plan? Are you waiting for me?"

The rat scampered up onto the railing and stood still, yellow eyes glittering in the gloom. Shaking her head, she began trudge forward, only to see the little animal amble along beside her. She stopped; the rat stopped. She walked; it walked. She suddenly dashed forward and was delighted to see it keep pace beside her. "You are so cute!"

She got a squeak in response and nodded sagely. "Why thank you. I don't know how you can consider me cute considering you're a rat and I'm a human, but I can consider you cute, so I guess you can consider me cute."

Her ramble was cut off as a particularly foul stench reached her nose, nearly knocking her off her feet. She clapped a hand over her nose and mouth, trying her best not to gag. She began stumbling quickly forward, periodically checking to see if the smell had faded away. Eventually, the air became only tolerably putrid once more and she inhaled deeply. "Dear spirits, what do these bandits eat? Gah! I hope you enjoyed that, Alex. I'm sorry, Alexander. Never understand why you're so particular about that. Anyway, little rat, do you have anything to say?"

It began squeaking loudly, rhythmically, almost as if trying to sing a song. Lyn clapped her hands in delight and began chirping along with the rodent, weaving her bursts of noise between the beats of its squeaks. She began swaying from side to side, listening to the reverberations throughout the sewer and trying to imagine it becoming actual music. In a way, it was. Sure, Lazy Boy over there wouldn't consider it music, but to her, it was the sound of human and animal finding common ground.

Speaking of common ground, she began to notice that the catwalk was beginning to sway slightly. She first dismissed it as a small earthquake or some particularly raucous bandits enjoying a midday party, but the rumbling seemed to be growing louder and louder, heading in her direction. Frowning, she looked behind her and her blue eyes widened in surprise.

A veritable horde of large rodents were running towards the two pirates, only visible by their beady yellow eyes. There were countless rats, speeding along the banks of the sewer, climbing along the curved ceiling, sprinting on the walkway itself. Some were even running on other rats, almost flying towards the pair. Ordinarily, Lyn wouldn't be too concerned, but the rats had the same look in their eyes as Damien did right before he went rampaging off: a fierce determination to get from Point A to Point B without a care of what was demolished between the two.

She twirled around to stare at her rat friend, who was staring at her with what she could have sworn was a smug expression. "Traitor!" she shouted theatrically, swiftly weighing her options. Even without the musician, there was no way she could outrun the mass. That left her with only one real option, one she didn't really want, but there was no other choice.

"You are going to hate me for this," she groaned. "Why am I always the one doing this?" Taking one last breath of clean air, she bounded off the catwalk and into the putrid river of refuse.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Raven, despite her best efforts, was being delayed. Not because of her injured right leg, though she still should have hesitated in using such an unpolished technique, but because there were several bandits moving towards the _Howling Knave_. Leaping amid the trees and using the supple spring branches to propel herself forward, she kept an eye on her targets as she calculated which ones she would attack first. While Cassandra had instructed her to take care of Lyn and Alexander, there was no possible way for them to have arrived at the ocean in so short a period of time. And so, instead of moving diagonally to intercept the pair of pirates, she was moving straight as quickly as possible.

She did acknowledge that the bandits were proficient at traversing their own terrain. They used their powerful legs to move in large leaps and jumps, regardless of how tall they were. The enormous bandits carved graceful arcs through the sky while the smaller ones were speeding through the undergrowth in short hops, not unlike her own method of moving. Being forced to move while visible, for otherwise she would exhaust herself before she reached her destination, caused her to be extra cautious. While she went undetected, she could not accelerate without being seen.

Gigantic trees flashed by her as she sped alongside the bounding bandits, mentally noting the slower, more oblivious ones. Now and then, as they leapt arounds small village or hunting parties, she would zip forward and prick them with her deadly waspknives. Some would begin to slow; others crashed into the next obstacle. Inevitably, at least one other bandit stopped to help their fallen comrade, further reducing their ranks. She wished she could kill them as well, for the ones who dropped back always rejoined the tail end of the group as soon as they were sure their friend was out of danger, but that would attract too much attention.

She was, however, able to slay two bandits in a single blow once. As the pack hurtled across a particularly large ravine, hidden in the shadow of the mountain, she picked two bandits far off to the side and drove two jagged rocks into their hamstrings as they were about to land. They let out howls of pain, but Raven knew the others would interpret them as surprised reactions to miscalculated leaps. The pair bounced off the rocky crag and tumbled down the cliff face, vanishing into the river below amid splashes of red water. These two, easily identifiable as new recruits, caused at least ten bandits to halt their march and descend to retrieve the bodies. No questions would be asked, for being a soldier on Winter Isle meant absolute command over one's body and one's surroundings. Any error was fatal. Only the best survived.

At one point, the curvaceous doctor caught sight of a white speck rising in the distance. She quickly identified it as the man who was escorting Cassandra and wondered why he had so obviously drawn attention to himself. For a moment, she wondered if it was a trap that she and Cassandra had blindly walked in to. But she soon realized that the man in the white armor was not actually going towards the _Howling Knave_. After some conversing between the leaders of the bandits, the group split in two. The majority of the bandits went after Cassandra and her escort while the others continued moving towards the ship. Whether by coincidence or design, and Raven was inclined to believe the latter, the pirate captain had split up the group and had made her own job easier.

There were still enough bandits left for her to give her pause, but she was not as careful in disguising her incapacitations as before. While she knew that being the unknown member of the Black Glove Pirates was both useful and necessary, giving the impression that the crew was protected by a mysterious force would also help them in the future. She renewed her efforts with a dispassionate ease, using her vast arsenal of tricks and traps to further reduce their numbers. Strings coated with deadly toxins and as light as spiderwebs crossed the bandits' path. The sudden reflection of the sun into their eyes combined with accurately thrown hair-thin poisoned needles. Bags of sharp glass ground finer than dust emptied before them, permeating their eyes and noses. Anything and everything she had, she used.

The bandits were not fools. They soon realized that they were loosing soldiers too quickly for natural injury. Of course, this was all Raven's plan. She knew that there would come a time when outright combat would come and she was prepared for it. Exactly nineteen bandits remained, thirteen large and six small. None of them could be allowed to leave and spread the word of her existence. On top of the others she had crippled, wounded or slain, these nineteen were not allowed to live.

She took care of the six shorter, less armored ones first; they were the ones most likely to escape because of their smaller size. With a murmured "Raakhat" and a burst of extreme speed, she was among them like a viper among birds, swiftly slitting two throats with a single movement. Sure enough, the four other bandits bolted while the larger ones halted their movement to confront her. She flew after the fleeing soldiers, never wasting a single movement in her attacks. Each action blended fluidly with the next, allowing her to keep up with their accelerated pace. They attempted to bob and weave to avoid her attacks, one even attempting to retaliate, but she had been trained to kill targets moving at her own top speeds. These men were almost in slow motion compared to her.

With six corpses sprawled across the ground, she turned around and analyzed the thirteen men she had left to kill. They seemed confident in their ability to take her on and she knew their pride was at least partially justified. Winter Isle bandits were trained in fighting, not fleeing, and they stood a better chance if they worked as a team to deal with her. Another piece of information worth noting was their thick armor, which none of her blades could even hope to scratch. Her ancestors had developed a special technique when dealing with heavily armored targets, one she would certainly practice on Damien when they successfully escaped. As it was, she was forced to find the gaps in their plates of armor and mail, something she knew would be quite challenging.

But she was never one to give up and surrender, especially when Cassandra was depending on her to fulfill her part of the plan. She patiently waited in the clearing, barely coming up the bandits' shins. She would wait for them to make the first move, or at least until she was done picking out and memorizing each bandits' weak points. They seemed to be waiting as they slowly encircled her, possibly communicating with each other using hidden signals. She occasionally saw a hand or helmet twitch, but she was not concerned. Whatever attack they launched, she could evade. Then she would retaliate.

As one, the thirteen men plunged their gauntlets into the ground and heaved, sending the entire patch of earth crumbling into the air. Raven seized the opportunity and darted forward, stabbing a man in the armpit. She let her body fall limp with a whispered "Gaath," managing to avoid the four lances of rock sent in her direction. She hurled herself into the air amid a burst of compressed air, flying up towards the bandit's eye level. With a quick spin, she sent a faint blue gas towards the three closest to her, expecting them to duck or dodge backwards.

Sure enough, two retreated while the third crouched down. Flitting over to the crouching one, she withdrew a small ball from one of her pockets and smashed it against his visor, sending a foul-smelling liquid spurting into his face. He obligingly recoiled in shock and disgust, unintentionally exposing his neck. While he was wearing some sort of reinforced neck cover, the strap holding his helm to his head was plainly visible. Cutting the strap with a swift slice, she flipped around and kicked off his helmet, revealing his battle-scarred face.

She did not have time to attack him, for his comrades swiftly came to his rescue. Raven easily leapt over a sword that came within an inch of the man's uncovered eyes and skidded in midair, sending out more puffs of condensed air. She needed to end this battle quickly or risk damaging her legs. For once, she acknowledged that having at least one of her crewmembers to aid her was preferable to taking on all thirteen men on her own. She realized that the one most suitable to aid her was actually not her captain, a woman whose dependability and skill she knew inside and out, but the untrustworthy and undeterrable navigator Damien. What a strange world she was living in, to wish he of all people were at her side.

Knowing that desiring a combat partner was quite different than actually having one, she resolved to simply push her limits as far as she could. She was no use to Cassandra dead, after all. Kicking off of midair, she spiraled towards the uninjured bandit closest to her barely avoiding pieces of debris raining down around her. He managed to get his arm up in time to parry her first strike, but was too slow to keep up with her accelerated follow-up strike. As she moved behind him, a trail of sparks slid up his armor, ending at the crack near the junction between helm and breastplate. The sparks flew into the bandit's visor, but he refused to recoil like the others. This was just fine with Raven; it gave her the chance to drive her waspknive up inside his helm, slipping into the base of his skull.

Unfortunately for her, she had only slain one bandit and injured two more too lightly, yet her endurance was reaching its end. This situation was not turning out well for her.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Well, that's most of them on our tail," Cassandra murmured, looking back at the horde chasing her and her escort. "That should give Raven enough room to take out the others."

"Raven?" Cain asked, focusing on the terrain before him.

Cassandra nodded, wriggling around to make herself slightly more comfortable in the crux of his arm. "While I could have gotten you to Reichmann Island without you knowing of her presence, it's just easier if I tell you now. As you may have suspected, I have not been entirely honest about who is in my crew. While I have Lyn and Alexander, who you are surely aware of, Damien is not dead and one woman, Raven, is the ship's doctor. She is exceptionally adept at assassination, though I'm not sure how she'll fare in open combat."

"You place a lot of trust in me," Cain murmured. "I will do my best to live up to your expectations."

"I only require that you repair my ship, help us escape and not tell anyone about Raven," Cassandra told him, before adding, "And I must have your word about that last part."

"On my honor," the bandit vowed. "And in return, you give me passage to Reichmann Island. Winter Isle's completely lacking in ships and constructing one would not go unnoticed. I thank you for-"

"Yeah, okay," Cassandra rudely interrupted. "Though I do wonder what you will do after you find your prince again."

The massive guard shrugged, nearly dislodging her from her perch. "I'll follow him wherever he goes. When he is ready, he'll return to Winter Isle and reclaim his title as heir to Lord Zematsal."

"You are fairly sure of this when speaking of one who has fled his country before," the pirate captain mused. "From where does such strong loyalty arise?"

"Why're you asking me about loyalty?" he asked, sounding much less formal than before. "You're followed by three, I'm sorry, four pirates."

"Two of them are unreadable, despite their cheery and emotionless appearance, another has the same devotion you share with Prince Zematsal and the last has no care for anyone whatsoever," Cassandra listed, ticking them off on her fingers. "That's Raven and Alexander I can depend on, Lyn I can mostly depend on, though sometimes her actions are truly bewildering, and Damien is a bloodthirsty psychopath who has as likely to help us as he is to attack us. And if you even think of asking why I have him on board, I'll blow your head off. He's part of my crew and nothing short of murdering a crewmember is going to change that."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Cain mumbled, fishing around in his pocket. "If he's half the fighter I've heard he is, you're lucky to have him."

The sniper grunted, watching as he stuffed a block of cheese and meat into his mouth. "Well, I'm glad you feel that way because we're coming up on him now."

Cain suddenly stopped, nearly sending Cassandra hurtling into the undergrowth. "He's that close?"

"Yes, he is," she snapped, adjusting herself once more. "I said we would be meeting with him and we are. It just so happens that he didn't wander too far from the ship."

"Well, which direction is he in?" the enormous bandit asked.

"About 10 o'clock, I'd say. Just start heading in that direction and we'll see if he's there."

Nodding at her, he resumed his swift locomotion. He obligingly brought her up to his shoulder, from which she had a much clearer view of their surroundings. The bandits on their tail were slightly closer due to the pair's brief pause, but they were still quite some distance away. She gave them under a quarter of an hour until they caught up, which was not as much time as she would have liked. "How fast do you think you can repair the _Knave_?" she inquired.

"Depends on the severity of the damage," he responded. "How big is the hole?"

"I don't know," Cassandra sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Probably Damien-sized. He's the one who made the hole in the first place."

The large guard nodded, nearly dislodging her yet again. "Then it should take less than five minutes."

He winced slightly as she rapped her gloved knuckles against his helm, ringing it like a bell. "Stop moving your head so much; I'm using it for support. So that gives me maybe five minutes to convince him to follow us, and reasoning with him usually takes longer than that, and we'll be able to leave. Hopefully, Alexander and Lyn are already on their way back along the shoreline as well."

"And if they aren't?" Cain muttered.

"Then we'll have to improvise," Cassandra said off-handedly. "Can I count on you to fight for us, against us or neither?"

"I have a vested interest in getting off this rock," the man replied. "By aiding you, I have already committed several heinous crimes. I might as well go the full distance and help you escape."

"Excellent," Cassandra murmured. "Turn left here. Damien should be coming up soon."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Now why are we guarding this?" one woman complained, eyeing the massive grate with displeasure. "We're standing in front of a river of shit with nothing more than a vague guess that they might be escaping this way?"

The lieutenant frowned at the insubordinate bandit. "We would never have expected her to even conceive how to escape so cleanly. We need to be guarding every possible outlet. Plus, the mass movements are happening. Someone needs to keep the sewer from getting clogged."

"First the ship, now this," another muttered. "This is because that infiltration of one of Goratsal's villages was one big snafu, right? Because that totally wasn't my fault."

"Can it," the lieutenant said harshly. "We do the orders we're given, regardless of how boring or foul-smelling it is."

The women began grumbling quietly, but made no more outright complaints. The lieutenant sighed and leaned against the thick metal bars, liking the situation no more than her subordinates. In truth, she wanted to be part of the force moving against Black Glove Cassandra herself, for the woman was proving to be quite an exciting opponent, but she followed orders to the letter. That's how one moves up in the world, after all.

She was instantly roused from her thoughts as the metal began vibrating slightly. Rolling her eyes, she stepped away and peered through the grille. "Goddamn rats. Be alert, ladies, the pirates might be in the middle of the beasts."

"That would suck for them," one of the women chortled. "I tried riding the rats once. Little shits slammed me against the bars so hard I broke three ribs and both arms."

The shaking grew stronger and stronger as the horde approached the end of the sewer, squeaking and screeching mightily. The bandits slowly strolled to either side of the tunnel, barely flinching as the mass of rodents threw themselves through the holes in the bars and into the sunlight. Pained squealing began filling the air as the rats unfortunate enough to hit one of the metal rods were crushed by the weight of their rushing brethren.

For a full minute, the river of living flesh poured through the grille. It began tapering off, leaving broken bodies near the opening of the hole, slowly being carried out by the relentless current of refuse. The bandits watched with boredom as some of the less injured rodents picked themselves up and limped into the sunlight. Waiting until the last of the creatures moved through the grate, they hopped into the fetid sludge and began poking the corpses through the holes, keeping them from blocking the drain. It was a tedious and unpleasant, but necessary chore. Last time it went unchecked, the pipe was stuffed so full, it ruptured and demolished three towns. There had been hell to pay for that.

One of the women cried out in surprise as a grimy head poked out of the muck, greedily sucking in large breaths of air. The bandits all swiftly gathered around as it wiped excrement from its face, revealing patches of pale skin. It looked up at the women with electric blue eyes and froze. "Oh boy."

* * *

Sorry if this chapter moved a bit choppily. I just couldn't think of ways to make certain parts more entertaining.


	41. Bringing It All Together

This chapter turned out longer than I expected. I don't know how this happened, but I'm not complaining.

* * *

"Turn left," the pirate captain ordered, eyeing she various burns and scars marring the environment around them. "He is definitely close by."

Cain grabbed onto a tree in midjump, using it to change direction sharply. He gradually slowed to a lumbering walk as he gazed at the wreckage around them. Trees were splintered and bare, boulders had been reduced to dust and the entire area seemed to be drenched in dark blood. Cassandra frowned slightly as she slid off the bandit's shoulder and crouched to further analyze the liquid. She dragged two fingers through it and rubbed her thumb against them, noting its density and viscosity. Bringing it to her face, she smelled and licked her fingers, quickly spitting it back out.

"It's not his blood," she murmured, standing up and wiping her hand on her pants. "Or even human, for that matter. Basically all of this came from a herd of animals-"

"Or one large one." Cassandra looked up to see that what she had assumed to be more debris was actually some sort of dead animal. Gesturing for Cain to lift her once more, she climbed onto his hand and carefully balanced as she rose into the air. From her new vantage point, she could see that the entire thing was bigger than the _Howling Knave_, blood sluggishly seeping from its many wounds. Cain carefully stalked forward and Cassandra could sense his amazement as he gazed at the massive creature.

"This is a timber wolf," he whispered in awe, letting his hand fall to his side as she dismounted. "He killed a timber wolf."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Yes, he did. But the question I have is whether the timber wolf killed him."

Cain slowly stumped forward, seemingly oblivious of the smaller woman. "These are incredibly hard to track down and even harder to kill. Even I barely managed to kill one and I spent over a week recovering in the hospital afterwards. My God, how did he do it?"

"You go find out how and I'll find Damien," Cassandra instructed, waving him off. "I'll call you when we need to leave."

The gigantic bandit nodded and began shambling away. Muttering darkly to herself, Cassandra began trotting through the trampled underbrush, searching for her navigator. She was forced to regain her balance on numerous occasions as she slipped on puddles of saliva and blood. She had to pick splinters out of her hand as she grabbed onto shattered branches and tree trunks, the nagging knowledge that she had to hurry up in the back of her mind. _Well, at least he let off some steam_, she mused, clambering over a set of scarred boulders. _Good thing he wasn't dragged bound and gagged into the mountain. We'd never have escaped._

She finally found him slowly ambling away from the scene, blood bubbling from the deep slashes across his arms and back. Sighing loudly, she raced over to him and stopped in his path. "Enjoyed yourself, Damien?"

The ponderous man ground to a halt, staring up at her with heavy-lidded eyes. "Izzat you, Cap'n?"

"It's me," she confirmed. "So you took out a timber wolf?"

"Big ol' shi'-brained beastie wouldn' git outta me fuckin' way," he grumbled quietly, sending his dreadlocks flying with a mighty shake of his head. "Twas only fair tha' I tear it a new one."

Cassandra grabbed his chin, forcing him to look into her eyes, and twisted his head from side to side. "Damien. Damien! Look at me, okay?"

The navigator's eyes crossed and re-crossed as he tried to bring her into focus. Sighing with displeasure, Cassandra released him and rested her hands on her head. "Well, damn. It looks like the wolf gave you a concussion. You took a blow from Madaxe without getting one of those. This thing must have put up a hell of a fight."

"Aye." He nodded his head to emphasize his whispered word. "Fought 'arder than tha' black'earted concubine 'r tha' cum-garglin' axe-wankin' cock'ead. Fuckin' 'ell, my 'ead 'urts."

"Come on," Cassandra said, wiping her bloody glove on her outer shirt. "Cain! Playtime's over; get over here!"

The bandit landed behind her a few seconds later later. "Yes?"

She glanced up at him while pointing at the dazed berserker. "It looks like you're going to have to carry him to the _Knave_. Don't worry, I don't think he'll attack you." She paused. "Damien, don't attack him," she added as an afterthought.

"'M fine," he growled, moving forward. "Don' even think 'bout it, ya lily-wearin' cocksucker. Ah can take meself to th' ship."

"He can be a bit foulmouthed sometimes," she explained. "Damien, we really don't have time for your antics. Let Cain carry you. Captain's Orders."

He gave her a long, green-eyed glare before nodding and stumbling against the white-armored bandit. "Fuckin' bitch…"

"Love you too," she sighed as Cain tucked him beneath his arm. "Let's head off then…"

She twisted around as the bandit reached for her, peering into the dense forest. The massive man paused and knelt beside her, also scanning his surroundings. "What is it?"

"Something's not right," she murmured, before whirling around and fixing her eyes on his visor. "We need to leave. Right now."

The urgency in her tone must has spurred him on, for he grabbed her roughly and took off towards the _Howling Knave_. They were moving even more quickly than before, if that were even possible. Cassandra could hear the bandit's heart pounding in his chest as they sped towards her ship. Instead of graceful arcs through the sky, he was kicking off of the ground with such force that he left massive craters in the ground. He bulled through tree and boulder alike, focusing only on getting them to their target. His breathing was coming in large gasps as he sprinted through the forest, relying on his strength and thick armor to protect him from everything in his way.

They reached the edge of the forest in no time at all, exploding out with a flurry of gravel and splinters. Upon catching sight of the ship, Cain twisted his head around, his helmet glinting in the sunlight. "Are you willing to be thrown?"

"If you're going to be here for more than a second, yes!" she shouted.

Cain picked the pirate off of his shoulder and hurled her like a ragdoll, putting all of his strength into the throw. Cassandra flew through the air, heading straight towards the main sail. Bracing herself, she crashed through the rigging and plowed right through the canvas sheet, tumbling towards the waters beyond. Her momentum had been slowed by the sail enough that when she struck the water, only minor pain shot through her limbs. She skipped across the surface a couple times before finally coming to rest among the raging surf.

Fortunately for her, there wasn't much of a riptide around these shores. She was swept back towards the shore almost instantly, spinning her around crazily. A large wave sent her rolling across the sands and she soon slammed into the hull of her ship. She lay there for a moment, dazed, before shaking her head and turning around.

Sure enough, she was on the far side of the _Howling Knave_, where Damien had clawed his way out of the bilge. After recollecting her senses, she raced through the hole and leapt into the air, her fingers barely catching on to the lip of the fissure she had blown into the cargo hold. Hauling herself up, she raced out of the room and through the medical bay. Smashing open the trapdoor, she practically flew into her room, searching wildly for her rifle and pistols.

Sure enough, her weapons were where they always were, right beside and beneath her bed within easy reach. She quickly strapped on her holsters, grabbed her rifle and a box of ammunition and sprinted back out of the room. While the main pack of bandits were still striving to reach them, a band of eleven men were racing across the beach after a familiar black shape. Planting a boot on the portside railing, she aimed carefully with her rifle and pulled the trigger, sending a round smashing through one of the bandits helmets. "Saggita Diania!"

"I could not take them," Raven gasped, landing on the railing beside her. "I ran out of energy too quickly."

"Cain!" Cassandra screamed as she wrung out her shoulder and shoved another round into her rifle. "I need your help! Saggita Diania!"

"Asja!" Just as the ten bandits reached the ship, the white-armored man landed in front of them, holding a massive tree between his gauntlets. Damien flew from his shoulder bounced across the deck, coming to rest against the mast. Cassandra scrambled for a better view as Cain swung his makeshift club around, shattering it against the other bandits' armor. She shot out another round and was knocked backward by the recoil, her shoulder fully dislocated by the rifle butt. Howling with frustration, she crudely jammed her arm back into its socket with a mighty jerk, a sharp spasm of pain forcing her to drop her weapon.

"Raven, where are Alexander and Lyn!" she shouted as one of the bandits flew overhead and splashed into the ocean.

"I was not given… the opportunity to retrieve them," the doctor managed, wrapping a white bandage around her bloody arm. "They are currently fending for themselves."

"Shit!" Cassandra yelled at this. "See if you can get that blasted navigator of mine awake and fighting!"

Raven nodded and leapt to the main deck. Cassandra fetched her rifle and fired, but the recent injury to her arm impeded her aim, the shot merely catching the bandit in the shoulder. Growling angrily as she threw her rifle against the steering wheel, she pulled out her feather-light pistols and took a running jump off the ship, landing clumsily on a bandit's shoulder. "Ira Iunonia!"

Jamming both barrels beneath his helmet, she pulled the triggers, sending two rounds ricocheting around the metal armor. The bandit began collapse like a felled tree and she leapt at another bandit, only to be swatted aside with ease. She rolled once and swiftly sprung to her feet, sending off two rounds at other bandits and missing entirely. The bullets flying by their faces drew their attention away from Cain for just an instant. That moment was all it took for the white-armored bandit to knock one aside and jab another one in the chest, armor crumpling under the blow as he shouted, "Frami!"

_This isn't good!_ She mentally shouted as her mental countdown until the arrival of the main bandit force slowly decreased. _I need a new plan!_

Suddenly, Raven somersaulted through the air, knocking the pirate captain to the ground. Spitting sand from her mouth, Cassandra righted herself and yelled, "What was that for? The bandits are over there."

Her eyes widened as she saw blood begin to flow down Raven's arm and drip off her bare hand. "He is fine," the doctor murmured, clumsily attempting to stop the gashes from bleeding further. "Damien is fine."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow as the navigator in question stumbled off of the ship and faceplanted onto the beach. "Well, he's somehow awake, I'll give him that. But-"

Her eyebrows shot up as he dazedly caught the downward smash one of the bandits had launched at him, shockwaves rippling through the sands from the impact. He patiently held the bandit in place while Cain wound up, sending the bandit flying with a powerful uppercut. "Well, I'll be," Cassandra whistled. "I would have never expected him to cooperate with Cain like that." Shooting off another round and actually connecting this time, she frowned and gazed down at her doctor. "But he hurt you, didn't he?"

"It is nothing," Raven droned, flexing her left hand to make sure it still worked. "He uses a very different style of fighting after being knocked unconscious. I did not expect him to attack with his foot."

Cassandra grunted, then her eyes widened as she found the solution to their problem. "Can you still fight?" she asked in a rush.

"Yes," Raven began, but was immediately cut off by her captain.

"Cain!" Cassandra shouted above the fighting. "Go to where the sewer empties out east of here and pick up Lyn and Alexander!"

"What about here?" he bellowed back. "Frami!"

"Raven, Damien and I will handle it! Go!"

Smashing another bandit into the ground, Cain bounded off, discarding what remained of the tree trunk. Cassandra and Raven eyed the remaining bandits, four healthy and four injured. Luckily, the injured ones showed no signs of wanting to depart. Cassandra glanced around, taking stock of her pirates' injuries. Raven looked exhausted, her chest heaving as she gasped for air. Her left arm was hanging by her side, but it still looked like it could move. However, Cassandra doubted the curvaceous doctor could stand for much longer, much less move at her usual speed. Damien was in a similarly terrible position. While he was unpredictable but reliably powerful while fully conscious and enraged, his semi-conscious behavior was more focused on eliminating the enemy before him before passing out completely.

"Raven, can you bolster Damien's endurance again?" she asked as the bandits prepared to attack again.

"As you know, Damien is abnormal," the former assassin droned. "His body adjusts to poisons and drugs far more quickly than is natural. There is a significant amount of time after receiving a substance that he is immune to it."

Cassandra gaped at her. "You've got to be kidding me."

"Such a perfect fighting machine is wasted housing the mind of an infantile sadist," Raven murmured. "If he had control over his emotions and could concentrate long enough to think through his actions, he would be unstoppable."

"I'll say," Cassandra grumbled. "Chat time's over, though. Ira-"

"Wait," her doctor cut in, stepping in front of the twin pistols.

"What are you doing?" Cassandra shouted. She swiftly fell silent as she watched all eight bandits charge the wobbling navigator. For a split second, she felt a pang of fear. Cain was clad in armor as thick as her wrist, but Damien was relying completely on the metal bones lying beneath his muscles. Even with his unique physiology, there was little hope of surviving eight direct attacks from some of the strongest humans in West Blue. He bent over slightly, bringing his hand in front of his face. Pushing Raven aside, the pirate captain yelled at him, "What are _you_ doing?"

Just as the bandit's attacks were about to reach him, his emerald eyes lost their stunned glaze and he threw his arm out wide. Lifting his head to the heavens, he let out an earsplitting howl, almost deafening the sensitive sniper. The world seemed darken for a moment and the fiery shape of some enormous beast surrounded him. Even the bandits paused at this new development, their eyes filling with disbelief.

In that instant of hesitation, Damien launched his attack. A massive explosion shook the shore, sending the two pirates tumbling head over heels. Cassandra's eyes crossed and squeezed shut as the bright light and deafening boom surged through the air. She felt her body bounce across the damp sand, coming to rest in the shallows. She lay there, barely registering the cold waves sweeping around her still form and hissing as they extinguished her burning clothing.

Then, despite her best efforts, blackness enveloped her like a warm blanket and she passed out.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra, Raven and the bandits were not the only ones sent flying by the blast. Lyn had deserted her body the moment she was apprehended and went looking for her friends. She had been solid enough to be sent reeling, but had reflexively turned intangible a second later. Fortunately, she was not skilled enough at manifesting her spirit to have taken serious damage, so she easily floated back up and viewed the damage around the incinerated area. Damien was immobile, lying in the middle of the crater he had created. Drifting over to him, she checked the scarred fighter for any signs of life. He was already slowly climbing to his feet, though he swiftly lost his balance and fell back onto the beach. He decided to lay there and recover his energy, closing his eyes in rest.

Before she could check her captain and doctor, she felt something pulling at her body. She ignored it. The bandits were probably carrying her back to somewhere or other. She glided over to Captain and hung there upside down, staring at the prone woman. Her clothes were partially disintegrated from the flames and sea water, but the blemishes covering her skin seemed to be washing away with the waves. Lyn shrugged and flew over to Raven, making sure she was okay as well. The usually flawless ponytail was sprawled across the shallow water and covered the doctor's small form, but she was otherwise fine. Lyn reached over and brushed her fingers across the woman's cheek, pushing strands of hair from her face. She was almost tempted to try to remove Raven's face mask, but as much as her curiosity nagged her to, she wanted the doctor to reveal her face of her own volition.

Her body experienced an unexpected jarring, which didn't seem normal. Even though she didn't expect the bandits to be particularly careful with her, the feeling she had was too rough to be natural. Turning around, she sped as quickly as she could back to her body, barely registering her surroundings. Her world went solid grey as she slammed back into reality. No matter how often she went from spirit to body, she never got used to abrupt reentrances. She lay there for a moment, simply waiting for her senses to return.

"Why the hell am I on the ground?" she groaned aloud. No response. Well that was rude. "Wait, this is the ground, right?"

"Strykr Smida!" Something enormous smashed into the surface right in front of her face. She gave a loud yelp and squirmed backwards, her hands still tied resolutely behind her back. Her vision was remaining stubbornly hazy, which was definitely getting annoying. She was pretty sure she had reentered her body more abruptly before, but this problem had never lasted for more than a few seconds. She was almost hit her head against the ground, but she thought that might be a bad idea. That might screw something up worse and Captain would yell at her. Man, she hated being scolded. It didn't help that both Captain and Alexander admonished her regularly. Just because she set one pair of pants on fire and accidentally dyed Alex's hair bright pink (Damien helped with the former and Raven indirectly with the latter) she was banned from doing laundry or someone else's cosmetics without their permission. That first part actually wasn't too bad, come to think of it…

She gave a shrill cry of shock and delight as she was suddenly hoisted off the ground and thrown into the air like a ragdoll. A few rapid blinks later, she could see well enough to make out a giant white shape beneath her. Quickly identifying it as the thing tossing her back and forth, she gave a happy shout, "What's going on?"

Again, no response. How rude. "Answer me!"

"Little busy! Asja!" The white blur solidified into a giant in shining armor, currently defending her and Alexander from the five bandit women with some degree of difficulty. He was a veritable mountain of a man, larger than most of the bandits she had seen so far. He held a stone axe almost as large as he was in his hand and swung it around like it weighed nothing. The other bandits were having a difficult time getting close to him and the two pirates he was juggling with the other hand. They darted in like small wasps, attempting to get past his thick armor and eliminate the pirates.

"Hey, if you release me, I can help!" Lyn shouted.

The large bandit gave a grunt and tossed her higher than before, bringing his axe around in a swift uppercut. Lyn screamed in surprise as the sharp edge barely whizzed by her face, neatly slicing her bonds in half. She landed on his broad shoulder and paused for a moment, admiring the accuracy of the cut. Shaking her head, she uncurled her prayer beads from her belt and ran down his arm, leaping off into space. "Can you make me a rapier really quickly?"

"Skod Smida!" In an impressive swirling movement, he swatted away one of the bandits with the flat of his blade, scuffed his hand against the ground and withdrew a thin splinter roughly twice the length of her arm. An instant later, it was chopped into a crude sword, one which didn't look like it would last for more than a few hits.

Nevertheless, any weapon was better than none, as the first mate really didn't relish the prospect of fighting this women unarmed. Grabbing the stone weapon as he lightly kicked it over to her, she grinned and shouted, "Taco de Billar!"

The nearest bandit cried out in surprise as a tiny red spot appeared on her arm. Clutching her shoulder in pain, she paused long enough for Lyn to loop her beads around the soldier's neck and pull herself closer in a fast body slam. Knocking the woman to the ground, Lyn swung her sword down onto the woman's calf, only to have it blocked by another bandit coming to save her friend. The soldier she had assaulted before wormed her way out of the constricting loop of beads and skidded out of her reach.

"Well, shit," the artist cursed as the two bandits prepared to attack her once more. This hadn't turned out well at all. These women were strong and fast, something she still wasn't particularly good at fighting against. It didn't help that she hadn't actually fought someone since Spring Isle, as she had been too tipsy to notice those attackers on Fall Isle. Besides, the guys there had been kind enough to give her free drinks. It was only fair to let them defend her if they wanted.

"Naipe Volador!" she shouted, thrusting her sword at the women. For a moment, the trio merely stood there, waiting for something to happen. Lyn quickly realized the problem and threw her hands into the air. "Crap! This piece of stone doesn't have a spirit like my rapier does!"

"Too bad!" the bandits shouted as the prepared to lunge at her.

"Threk!" They were both rather painfully intercepted as the massive axe crashed down upon them, pinning them to the ground. The bandit in the white armor planted a foot on the back of his weapon, keeping the pair trapped against the rock floor. "That was close," he grumbled.

Lyn stamped her foot on the ground and threw her stone weapon aside. "Aww, man! I never get to fight!"

"You wouldn't have stood a chance," the bandit boomed, kneeling down beside her.

He didn't even flinch as she slammed her fist down onto his helmet. "You never gave me a chance! I could have taken them both with my hands behind my back!"

"Isn't that the situation you were in before?" he observed.

Lyn sputtered for a moment before managing to say, "Not the point! Anyway, why are you here?"

The bandit quickly grabbed her in one massive hand and bounded away, almost flying through the air. "I've been sent by your captain to bring you back to the ship."

"Okay!" Lyn chirped, letting her body relax. "Go as fast as you can, mister!"

"Just like that? You're different from your captain," the bandit told her. "She still doesn't trust me, but you are willing to put your life in my hands without even knowing my name. How do you know I didn't attack those women to turn you in myself?"

"I don't!" The first mate was satisfied with this answer and changed the topic to something more important. "Did you manage to protect Lazy Boy?"

"The man in the suit?" he asked. "He was actually easier to handle than you were. He kept limp while you twisted around and were difficult to catch."

"He's unconscious," the first mate protested. "And I'm Lyn, by the way!"

The enormous man didn't even look down at her. "Cain. Be silent for a moment."

Lyn nearly yelled at him for such blunt orders, but thought better of it. Instead, she twisted around and stared at Alexander, making sure he was all right. One of his spectacle lenses was broken again and his suit was completely ruined. He was otherwise fine, though still unconscious. They could really use him, especially with that giant horde of bandits she had seen bearing down upon the ship. Maybe if Raven gave him some of her wakey-wakey medicine, he would be able to fight.

She gave a few blinks of surprise as the massive bandit landed beside the _Howling Knave_. She had definitely not have expected him to get there so quickly. Then again, she did space out for a moment there. Shaking her head, she hopped out of his hand and landed on the sands below. "Captain! Raven! Damien! Are you guys all right?"

The first two were already standing up, albeit wobbling slightly as they stumbled towards the ship. Captain's hazel eyes rose to meet hers and the sniper gave a relieved smile. "Cain, it looks like I can trust you after all. How long before the ship is fixed?"

"No more than a minute to make some repairs that last until Reichmann Island," he boomed, fetching the large splinters of wood he had scattered on the beach previously. "And the bandits should be arriving just as we depart."

"That's not good," Captain muttered, running her hand through her hair. "Damien! Are you awake?"

"Tha' was fuckin'…" The berserker trailed off as he rose to his feet. "Somethin'. Wha'd I do?"

"Nothing. Go back to the ship." Captain sighed and turned to her petite doctor. "Raven, we're going to need some way of delaying the bandits. Alexander and Cain are out of the question and I'd really prefer it if Damien rested for just a bit longer."

"You, Lyn and I are too exhausted to confront an army of that size," Raven droned. "I might be able to delay them, however." She flitted over to the bandit fixing the ship, alighting unsurely on his shoulder. Crouching down, she put her head next to his ear. After a few moments, Cain shook his head. Raven whispered something else. He nodded to this and the doctor sped back to the other female pirates. "Cassandra, please get the others inside. I have one option capable of permanently incapacitating-"

The pirate captain had already begun moving at "inside." Grabbing Lyn by the hand, she began walking as fast as she could back to the ship, gaining speed with every passing second. Raven materialized next to her and fell into step beside them. "However, it has a high chance of-"

"What do we need to do?" Captain cut in.

"Close all possible entrances to the ship," Raven droned. "Retreat to the medical ward and use the masks in the cupboard under the sink. After that, lock the first aid cabinet and the drawers and cupboards around the sink and wait. Until I re-enter the ship, do not move outside the room." Having finished giving her instructions, the dark doctor dematerialized in a black blur. Lyn sighed in admiration at her most mysterious nakama. Moving like that seemed so convenient. Even when Lyn had anticipated the petite woman's motion and moved to intercept her, Raven had merely flowed around her hand like smoke on the wind. It was so unfair!

The two women reached the ship and found Alexander dumped unceremoniously against the mast with Damien leaning heavily next to him. The trapdoor was already open and the sound of glasses clinking issuing from it indicated that Raven was preparing their exit strategy. Lyn carefully picked the musician up and descended the stairs, moving as quickly as she could without injuring the unconscious musician. Dodging to the side as Raven rushed by her, she gave an amused grin as she heard Captain yelling at Damien to get inside the ship. Surprise flooded through her face as the normally stubborn navigator stumped down the stairs and flopped down onto the nearest bed, its legs already broken form his previous visits.

"What'd you say to him?" Lyn whispered as Captain followed him into the medical bay.

"Get inside, you thickheaded lout," the sniper responded absentmindedly, rifling through the cabinets for the masks Raven had ordered them to wear. "But I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth at this point."

"What gift horse?" Lyn asked, placing Alexander on one of the unoccupied beds.

Captain gave her a long look. "Never mind. Here, put this on."

Lyn caught the thrown masks and covered her mouth with one, stretching the elastic bands up and over her head. After adjusting it slightly to make it more comfortable, she bent over and did the same to the unconscious alchemist. "What do I do now?"

"Just sit tight and don't touch anything. Anything!" Captain repeated sharply as she closed the doors leading to the hallway as tightly as she could.

"All right, all right! Sheesh," Lyn muttered, lying down on one of the vacant beds. "You say that as if I'd do something wrong."

"Not wrong, Lyn," the pirate captain sighed. "Just… not very helpful at the moment. If you want to help, you can disinfect Damien's wounds. There's no telling what bacteria that wolf had under its claws."

"What wolf?" Lyn asked as she shot to her feet and began looking around for a bottle that looked right.

The collapsed bed creaking as he shifted, Damien gave her a weary look. "Big ol' fuckin' beastie. Knocked me thru 'alf the cuntin' fores' with one blow. Had t' go d'rectly for th' neck or it'd 'ave torn me t' shreds."

"Lyn, that's a bottle of nitric acid," Captain warned as she made sure the trapdoor was secure.

"How'd you know?" Lyn gasped. She frowned as she read the label and, upon finding that her captain was right, hastily putting it back where she had found it.

The woman grinned as she came down the stairs and leaned on Alexander's bed. "I don't have to see you to know you just picked up a random bottle. The disinfectant is over there."

Lyn followed her finger over to the cabinet with a big red cross on it. "I thought X meant 'don't go here.'"

"That's a…" Captain sighed and shook her head. "Forget it. Just open it up and-"

Whatever her next instruction was going to be was cut off as the ship suddenly jumped up several feet, launching three of the pirates into the air. Alexander was lucky enough to land back on his bed when gravity took over again, but the two female pirates had rather painful reunions with the floor. As soon as the ship stabilized and her head stopped spinning, the first mate threw an arm onto the counter and hauled herself up. "What the hell was that?"

Unfortunately, that first movement was nothing compared to the abrupt forward motion the _Howling Knave_ executed a moment later. Lyn and Captain were thrown against the far wall while the three beds with functioning legs slid ominously towards them. Damien let out an annoyed growl as he fell off of his bed, halting his movement by digging his claws into the floorboard. Grabbing onto the nearest cupboard handle, Lyn managed to pull herself up just before the bed crashed into the wall where her legs had been a split second before. _That was close!_ she thought to herself. "What's going on?" she thought aloud.

"We're moving very, very fast," Captain hissed through her face mask. "If I had to guess, Cain just picked us up and threw us."

Lyn's eyes were the size of dinner plates. "He did _what?_"

"Lyn, you're one of my best friends, but I am seriously considering drugging you to keep you silent while something of this magnitude is going on."

"Aww, you're one of my best friends too!" the artist cooed, completely ignoring the second part.

"That's not what I-"

They were both thrown forward as the ship landed heavily on the water and began bobbing mightily as it attempted to stabilize itself. Luckily, the two women simply bounced off the beds, though Captain did have to contort herself to avoid crushing Alexander. Each performing some sort of acrobatic maneuver, they landed on the floor more or less upright and balanced as the ship tottered back and forth. Giving her widest grin, which Lyn realized was hidden behind her mask, the first mate shouted, "That was awesome! Let's do that again!"

Captain lightly flicked her in the side of the head. "Just help me put the beds back."

"Why can't Damien help you?" Lyn complained.

"Because there's no guarantee that he'll…" Captain trailed off as the navigator began pushing the beds into their original position. "Okay, now you're just scaring me. If I didn't know you better, I'd say you were up to something."

"Damien doesn't get up to stuff!" the first mate protested.

"I know," Captain said shortly. "That's why I'm worried. Maybe that wolf rewired his brain or something."

"Are you looking the gift horse in the mouth again?"

Captain stopped short and stared at her. "I thought you didn't understand that expression."

"It's an expression?" Lyn asked.

There was suddenly urgent knocking on the trapdoor, rousing the women into action. The pirate captain rushed up the stairs, but before she could open the hatch, Lyn grabbed her arm. "What if it's a trap?"

"If the bandits wanted to come inside, they would be inside," Captain explained as she wrested her arm from Lyn's grip and opened the door. "What is it, Raven?"

A black blur rushed into the medical ward, coalescing into the recognizable figure of the ship's doctor by one of the locked cabinets. "Cain was poisoned. Having foreseen this possibility, I gave him the antidote I had prepared. What I had not foreseen was his untimely allergic reaction to said antidote."

"But are we safely away from the poison gas?" Captain asked. "Is it safe to go outside?"

"It is safe to go outside," Raven droned, carefully measuring a quantity of pale orange liquid. "However, I would recommend keeping your masks on for a few more minutes."

Lyn gave a wild cheer and sprinted up the stairs. Sure enough, the enormous bandit was busy removing large plates of white armor, revealing the thick leather hides he had worn underneath. Those too were being hastily stripped off and his swollen features emerged into the bright spring sunlight. The first mate rushed in to help, but was held at bay by a single bloated finger.

"It's okay, little lady," Cain boomed as he wrenched his helmet off of his head and running his hand across his dark blond buzz cut. "I can do this on my own."

After some time, he finally managed to be completely free of the restricting armor, leaving on a simple brown vest, brown pants and brown combat boots. "You wear a lot of brown," Lyn observed.

"Our ranks are determined by the color of our armor," Cain grumbled, sighing with relief as Raven reappeared and injected a second antidote into his neck. "What we wear underneath is our own choice."

Captain emerged into the daylight with a pleased smile, standing proudly in the middle of the deck. "Well, pirates and bandit, we've managed to escape again. Raven, when you're done with Cain, see to Damien's wounds. Lyn, lower the sails and check to make sure nothing in our room was destroyed. Cain, as you have helped us out so much already, feel free to just take a breather."

"I want to help," the massive man informed her.

"All right, you can help Lyn with the sails. I'll be steering the ship until Damien's better. But I can assure you, Lyn, because I know you're so eager to celebrate, that we'll have a party tonight."

Surprisingly enough, Lyn, Cain and Damien all answered the last part simultaneously. "Aye!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Commander Julian paced lividly along the shore, watching as the bandits used huge fans to blow away the toxic gas that had incapacitated so many of his men. This was the biggest humiliation he had ever endured and he would be damned if he let this manipulative, deceitful pirate get away from him. His teeth ground together as he contemplated what he would do to her once he caught her. She would never see the light of day again, that much was sure. But would he prefer bodily torture or psychological first? Possibly both?

"That traitor Alcides managed to fix a ship he had never seen before in under two minutes!" he shouted. "How long does it take to make a simple boat that only needs to go a league or two out to sea?"

"We can't seem to get the proportions right," one of his large subordinates responded. "Too big and it won't last too long. Too small and we won't fit on it."

The commander almost howled in fury, but something caught his eye. The five women who he had been using to keep tabs on the pirates were limping along the beach, sporting large bruises and shallow cuts. An idea popped into his head and just as quickly exited his mouth. "Then build one that will hold these women and I. The six of us will go apprehend the pirates. Yes, you will all get credit," he snapped, knowing some of these men had signed on specifically to advance their careers. "It's just that none of you can go with us without jeopardizing our mission."

The enormous bandits all nodded and began preparing a moderately-sized boat. A foul smirk working its way onto his face, Commander Julian turned back toward the ocean. "Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, scum. It's the last of it you'll ever taste."

* * *

I just realized that most of the chapter was from Lyn's perspective. Huh.


	42. Persistence and Honor

I think I'm running out of creative names for titles. Maybe Lyn will help me come up with some.

* * *

Cassandra sighed in ecstasy as she rested her hands against the wall and let warm water flow over her aching body. It felt so good to rinse her body of the grime, salt and blood that had begun to form a thin layer over her skin. Letting her head hang down into the rushing current, she watched as the water fell to the porcelain bottom of the tub. A few of the droplets looked more brown than the others, but that was to be expected. There was something to be said about washing away all of the day's accumulated dirt and worries, especially when she was home safe and sound.

Her head swiveled around and she caught sight of Lyn peeking out from behind the half-closed door. "What is it?"

"I wanted to join you!" the first mate chirped.

"That would be a 'no,'" Cassandra told her. "You have to wait for me to finish like you always do."

"C'mon!" Lyn whined. "I'll wash your back for you!"

Cassandra sighed and reached for a bottle of shampoo. "Maybe some other time, when we're in a bigger bath."

"It's plenty big in here!" Lyn insisted, fully entering the room.

"Lyn…" Cassandra warned.

"All right, all right." The artist folded her arms sulkily. "Maybe the boys'll let me use their bathroom."

The pirate captain frowned. "That would also be a 'no.' How badly do you need to take a shower?"

"It would feel so good!" Lyn exclaimed, edging closer to the bathtub.

"It does, but you still have to wait."

"But I wanna shower now!"

"Lyn! Enough!"

"But Caaaaptaaaaain…"

Cassandra leaned forward and rested her head on the wall. "No amount of whining is going to get you into this shower. Wait your turn."

"But… but…" The first mate looked like she was on the verge of tears.

Fortunately, Raven chose that point to speed into the room, coming to rest on the toilet seat. "Lyn, if you wait patiently on your bed, I will show you how to use some of the herbs I have to add different colors to your painting."

Cassandra had never seen Lyn move so quickly before. Grinning widely as she rubbed shampoo through her hair, she turned to her black-clad friend and said, "Thanks a lot, Raven. You always seem to appear in the nick of time."

"You both need to rest," Raven droned. "We all need to rest, but you have been overtaxing your body to the extreme and she had to carry Alexander through a few miles of sewers. The others are already recuperating in various locations around the ship."

The pirate captain nodded, then cocked her head to the side as she caught sight of something. "You switched gloves, didn't you?"

Raven looked down at her gloved left hand and bare right one. "I did."

Waiting for an explanation but receiving none, Cassandra finished rinsing her hair for the second time and shut off the water. "Well, as much as I would enjoy simply standing here all day, Lyn needs to shower and there are some things I have to do around here."

"Those can wait and I can delay Lyn for as long as necessary," Raven murmured, handing her captain a towel.

"No, it's okay. I've hogged it for long enough. Just tell her I'll be right out."

Lyn must have been listening in, for she chose that moment to barge right into the room. "Yippee! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!"

Cassandra put her arm out to hold the woman in place. "Don't even think of hugging me, Lyn. You smell to high heaven even after Cain gave you that dunk in the ocean. Just do whatever it is you need to do."

She slid past the filthy first mate into the women's quarters, pulling on her black glove as she did so. She finished toweling off her hair and began to brush through it as she searched for her clothes. Raven began rooting around the room in an effort to aid her, but Cassandra's insistence that she help one of the other pirates caused her to bow her head once and speed out the door. The pirate captain sat back on her bed, absentmindedly brushing her hair as she stared out through the porthole. The seas in the distance were covered by dark storm clouds eternally hovering over the great maelstrom, but that journey was long over. Reichmann Island was nowhere near Nemuartsksom and she intended never to sail near it again. She had nearly lost everything more than once as they passed close to it. Though some of the areas in the Grand Line did make it look more like an eddy in a mountain stream, it was still a formidable force.

Putting her brush aside and deciding to finally put on underwear, shorts and one of Lyn's smaller tank tops, she walked outside and ascended to the poop deck. As she expected, Damien was resting against the mizzenmast, snoring fitfully away while Raven patiently changed his bloody bandages. The other two men were nowhere to be seen, which was puzzling. Alexander was still resting in the medical ward, but Cain was not exactly normal-sized. There weren't many places he could comfortably fit on the ship. Frowning, she went down to the galley and poked her head inside. No massive bandit. She checked down in the sickbay, but Alexander was alone, sleeping peacefully as he had been for the past hour or so. This ship wasn't that big! Where was Cain?

She finally went to the men's quarters and rapped her knuckles on the door. Upon receiving no response, she cracked the door open and peeked inside, completely unprepared for the sight before her. While the men's quarters had never been the smallest area, it was now unquestionably the biggest room on the ship. A massive square patch had been carved out of the middle of the floor, leaving a narrow walkway that surrounded the newly-formed pit. The hammocks now hung from the ceilings like massive cobwebs, drooping down towards the distant floor. Cain was reclining against a pile of crates and barrels pushed up against the fair wall, idly whittling away at a pair of ladders he obviously intended to install to reach the main deck and the men's bathroom.

Cassandra whistled in admiration as she fully entered the altered room. "That's quite a job you've done there, Cain."

"Apologies for not consulting you first," the bandit boomed. Even with the removed floor, his head was almost scraping the ceiling despite his sitting position. "I opted to sleep outside, but Lyn said that I had to be under some sort of cover. That being the case, I made a few modifications here and there. I'll put it back the way it was when I leave; I swear I will."

The pirate captain waved his protests aside. "You took orders from Lyn?"

"She is the first mate," Cain reasoned.

"Oh yeah." Lyn certainly didn't act like the second-highest ranking member of the crew. "Well, in any case, I don't care what you've done here. Alexander is most flexible and Damien cares even less than I do. Just be sure to inform them of your alterations so he doesn't fall in and have to be rehospitalized."

"That would be most unfortunate," Cain chuckled. "Out of curiosity, what's for lunch?"

Cassandra's stomach gave a loud gurgle, informing her that her apple for breakfast and hasty snack before her shower were not going to satisfy her dietary needs at the moment. "I'll cook something up. I bet you eat a lot, don't you?"

"I gotta say I do," he rumbled, running his tongue across his scarred lips. "I guess I'll eat whatever you have left over."

"That's not entirely fair," Cassandra said, leaning on the doorframe. "Damien eats a decent amount, especially after nearly dying again. Still, I've seen you inhaling food now and then. Feel free to help yourself to whatever we have lying around in this storage area while you wait."

The soldier gave a sheepish grin as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I already did."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Feeding bandits is a difficult job, isn't it. Your cooks must work around the clock just to keep the troops alive."

"That and more." Cain stopped his whittling and leaned back against the hull, tipping the ship slightly. "We have massive kitchens pouring out food all the time. Most of us even learned how to cook rudimentary meals."

"So you can cook?" Cassandra assumed.

"Not exactly. I'm not the type who would burn toast, but I'm still nowhere near as good as Young Master."

"I assume you mean Prince Morgan Zematsal."

Cain started as he caught sight of Raven perched on the edge of the floor bordering the men's bathroom, banging his head against the ceiling. "How and when did you get there?"

Cassandra smiled. "For a bodyguard, you need to work on keeping your eyes open."

"I'm on a friendly ship!" Cain protested, though the pirate captain could hear the jest in his voice. "Am I supposed to be alert all the time?"

"Well, you get used to her after a while," Cassandra laughed. "And if your prince were here, would you be as careless?"

"Certainly not," he replied. "Though in these cramped quarters, it would be hard for me to retaliate."

"Indeed." Cassandra pushed herself off of the doorframe with a nudge of her shoulder and turned back into the sunlight. "I'm going to make lunch. Cain, you're more than welcome to come outside…" She paused and swiveled on the ball of her foot. "How did you get in there anyway?"

The bandit gestured at the walls on either side of her. "Those are now doors too."

Cassandra nodded as she caught sight of the hinges that hadn't been there before. "Well okay then. Looks like you're sleeping there for the next couple nights."

She left the two to themselves and entered the galley. Due to the locks on the cupboards and doors, only one mess had been made by Cain's rather forceful method of departure from Winter Isle. Luckily, said mess was composed entirely of scattered silverware, something that was quite easy to clean up. After spending a short moment gathering the far-flung utensils, she carefully unlocked the refrigerator and peeked inside. A couple containers had opened up and all of the eggs were broken, but otherwise everything was fine. Grimacing as she wet a towel, she began wiping up the broken sauces.

"Do you need help?"

The pirate captain sighed and stuck her head around the refrigerator door. "Raven, why are you following me around?"

Raven blinked. "I have already reorganized the medical bay, attended the two most injured crewmembers, interrogated the bandit and cleaned my own wounds. As you do not require my aid, it would be remiss of me not to study the aftereffects the battle have on your body."

"I feel like I was beaten with a club," Cassandra replied. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, Captain?" Lyn chirped, bouncing into the galley. "I have some good news and some bad news?"

Mildly thankful for the interruption, Cassandra tossed the first mate an orange as she browsed for more food. "Bad news first."

"I'm running out of paint and Alexander melted my faces off the wall," Lyn complained, jabbing her thumb at the space above the door.

"I can't even begin to hide my disappointment," the sniper deadpanned. "And the good news?"

Lyn grinned broadly. "There's a band of bandits coming and I'll actually be able to fight this time!"

Cassandra was running out the door before Lyn's sentence was finished. Dashing over to the side of the ship, she stared out over the vast expanse of sea towards Winter Isle. Sure enough, a group of six bandits were paddling a giant raft-like boat towards them. She gave a small smirk as she saw the seething figure of Commander Julian at the front, arms crossed as he glared at her. "Lyn, be a good girl and get me my rifle, would you?"

She heard something fly through the air and instinctively whirled around, barely catching the thrown weapon. "Thought you'd be wanting it!" the former nun announced, tossing over the pair of silver pistols as well.

"You're an angel," Cassandra assured her, popping in a bullet and bracing the rifle on the railing. Adjusting the scope and focusing on one of the women, she tightened her finger on the trigger. "Saggita Diania!"

She curled her lip with displeasure as the bandit dodged the projectile with ease. Cracking her knuckles, she threw her rifle back to Lyn and drew her pistols. "Well, it looks like we're fighting."

"Should I get Damien and Cain?" Lyn inquired.

"No need to rouse them," Cassandra responded. "You take one, Raven takes four, I'll take Commander Julian."

With that, she turned away and ascended the stairs to their room. Knocking the door open, she quickly located her shoulder holsters and withdrew her ancestor's throwing knives. For the first time since the acquisition of the weapons, she inserted the blades into the slots at the bottom of her pistol butts, transforming the weapons into curved clubs as well. Throwing her sheathes on her bed, she began spinning her combined weapons around, testing their weight and feel.

She gave a small laugh as she began to twist them around faster and faster, listening to them whistle as they flashed through the air. Tossing them towards the ceiling, she crossed her arms and neatly snatched them out of midair by inserting her fingers in the trigger guards. They spun in deadly circles, pointed tips flying within centimeters from her skin. Flicking her hat onto her head, she strolled back outside and stood at the railing.

"Let's take 'em, Captain!" Lyn shouted, her rapier and beads held at the ready as she stood on the main deck to her right.

"They will not live to see tomorrow," Raven droned, climbing onto the railing on the poop deck to her left.

Cassandra glanced up and down at the two women. "You know the plan?" she asked as the boat drew ever closer. "Commander Julian is mine."

"I got one!" Lyn stated.

"As do I." The pirate captain turned sideways in surprise and looked directly into the eyes of the seated Cain.

"Two of 'em are fuckin' mine," snarled the unmistakable voice of her recently-awakened navigator.

Cassandra frowned. "Will this even be a challenge for you two?"

"Wouldn' be a fair figh' for this 'ere shiteatin' dyke either," Damien growled, probably referring to the ship's doctor.

"Raven's injured," Cassandra reminded him.

"Same 'ere," he shot back, leaning heavily on the railing next to the woman in question.

"And I'm not used to being out at sea," Cain mumbled, looking slightly green. "Maybe fighting will help keep my… urp…"

The sniper sighed and rolled her eyes as he took several deep breaths to soothe his queasiness. "Just wait for them to get in range…"

But Damien would have none of it. He hopped into the air, no higher than Cassandra could normally, and spread out his great dragon-like wings. As he landed on the deck, he crouched down quickly, sending the stern of the ship tilting crazily downward. Cassandra grabbed onto the railing to retain her balance, but otherwise remained unmoved as she watched her navigator complete his maneuver. As the ship tilted in the other direction to regain its equilibrium, Damien pushed off with his legs and flapped his wings hard, sending him soaring into the air as he burst into flame.

"Wow…" Lyn watched with stars in her eyes. "Amazing…"

Raven was after him in a heartbeat, skimming across the crests of the waves with fluid grace. Giving an apologetic shrug, Cain leapt after them, leather vest flapping in the wind. Sighing, the captain rested her elbows on the rail and shook her head. _At least I won't have to give orders during naval skirmishes. Two attackers and three defenders is plenty for now_.

She glanced downward, wondering if the musician was alright. Resolving to check on him after the battle, she turned her attention back to the oncoming raft. The three boarders had landed and were preparing to engage the bandits. There was currently a heated argument between Commander Julian and Cain, the former red in the face as he yelled upwards, the latter pointing vigorously at the _Howling Knave_ as he bellowed downwards. "What the hell are they doing?" Cassandra asked aloud.

"Dunno, but here they come!" Lyn shouted gleefully. Sure enough, Commander Julian and one of his cronies were flying towards them, alighting neatly on the forecastle deck.

Cassandra adjusted her white hat as she descended the stairs. "Well, well, well, Julian. It seems you've caught up with us."

"That's Commander Julian to you," he snarled, walking down to the main deck. "I hope you've enjoyed your freedom, _pirate scum_, because it's the last of it you'll ever feel."

"I still can't believe you came all this way just to catch little old me," Cassandra teased. "I really have better things to be doing than rebuilding your damaged reputation."

"Captain, I wanna fight!" Lyn whispered into her ear.

The pirate captain turned fully around to stare at the resident artist. "Lyn, Cain recently reminded me that you are actually the first mate and have the authority to act as you see fit. You don't need my permission to-" She stopped herself and reflected on her words. "There's not much-" Another pause. "Just do whatever."

Lyn cheered and bounded forward, her rapier whistling through the air as she charged. The bandit woman met her attack with a fabricated wooden katana and they began furiously swiping at one another, shouting attacks as they engaged in combat. Commander Julian cleared his throat loudly, drawing her attention back to him. "What, do you want to fight too?" she asked.

"I'm not done talking!" he said indignantly. "You have no place to escape to and I deserve my monologue! Now where was I?"

"Dona Angeroniae!" Commander Julian froze as the two bullets sped by his head. "Make no mistake, _bandit scum_," the pirate captain hissed. "I intend to see you die on this ship for all the trouble you've put me through. Come at me with everything you have if you want to live!"

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he retorted. "Strykr Smida!"

He drove his hand into the main mast and ripped out a long vein of wood, using a knife he whipped out of his pocket to instantly carve it into a spiked mace. Cassandra winced as the mast began to give loud creaks and groans, but she had no time to fix the problem. The bandit commander dashed forward and swung his newly-created weapon with surprising speed. Were it not for Cassandra's superb reflexes, she would have been decapitated. As it was, her white cowboy hat was ripped from her head, the thin cord ordinarily keeping it in place broken clean off.

Growling with irritation, she shot off another two rounds with another "Dona Angeroniae!" One of the bullets managed to connect with the outside of his right calf, but the other missed entirely. Cassandra's eyes widened as it whizzed by her first mate's face, causing Lyn to pause long enough to receive a powerful punch to the stomach. She had forgotten to keep track of the other two combatants on the ship, a mistake that had nearly lost her crewmember's life.

This slip-up did not go unnoticed by Commander Julian. In fact, he looked positively thrilled that she had nearly killed the ship's artist. "What's this, Cassandra? You're not acting as a captain should!"

"What do you know about that?" she snarled. "Ira Iunonia!"

Flipping one pistol around and grabbing it by the barrel, she threw herself at Commander Julian, shooting off rounds as she went. The bandit drew his mace around with all of his might, but Cassandra was ready this time. She slammed the spiked butt of her pistol into the weapon and leapt into the air, hoping to use the momentum to fly behind him. Unfortunately, he realized what she was trying to do and halted his movement, instead stabbing the mace forward like a lance. Her pistol was wrenched from her hand as she tumbled along the shaft of the weapon towards Commander Julian and the world seemed to spin crazily about. The wind was knocked from her lungs as he jabbed his weapon upwards, the wooden shaft colliding painfully with her chest. She flew through the air for a moment, only to be caught by the mace in a powerful downward smash. She crashed through the deck of the ship, falling into the medical bay below. Her head struck the foot of a bed and bounced back, nearly snapping her neck in half.

_Ow_… she thought as she lay bleeding in the floor of the medical bay.

"You all right?" Commander Julian taunted, staring at her through the hole she had made.

Cassandra tried to respond, but she couldn't muster enough breath to speak. She simply waited for feeling to seep back into her limbs and her senses to return. After a long moment, she began climbing to her feet, rubbing her aching head and twisting her neck to the side to relieve it of a painful crick. Before she could stand fully upright, Commander Julian hopped down onto her, shoving her face back into the ground. "You're one tough woman, I'll give you that. But let's face it: you can't take me on alone. It took two of you to take on Commander Otto and I'm even better than he is."

"Two?" she managed, trying to figure out which of her allies he was talking about.

"There were wounds caused by weapons you don't seem to be proficient in," he explained, grinding her face into the ground. "We have yet to find your accomplice, but we'll have answers as soon as that noblewoman you attacked recovers from her wounds."

Cassandra allowed a small smile to form despite the pain she was experiencing. "You'll never find out who helped me, not in a thousand years. Voluntas Carnae!"

Adrenaline coursing through her system, she twisted mightily around, knocking him off balance enough to squirt out form under his foot like an apple seed. Rolling to her feet, she ran up the stairs to the main deck, trying to draw the fight away from her unconscious musician. Commander Julian obligingly leapt back up through the hole, meeting her on the deck with a wide swing of his mace. She dove forward and barely avoided the weapon, its spikes flying within an inch of her head. She had not managed to turn herself into the proper position for rolling, so she turned her body and fired at the bandit, forcing him to retreat slightly.

"I've had enough of you!" he screamed, bringing his weapon around in another smash.

Cassandra was going to roll to the side, but Commander Julian was suddenly distracted by another problem. Lyn had somehow managed to fend off the bandit woman and was currently attacking with a whirlwind of attacks, causing her opponent backwards. It just so happened that the two bandits collided, jarring the other long enough for both pirates to make a move. Cassandra bolted to her feet while Lyn dashed forward, intending to catch the pair in a pincer movement. But the bandits were not amateur combatants and recognized the maneuver immediately. They leapt into the air and pushed themselves apart, landing on either side of the pirates.

In that instant, the tables were turned. Lyn quickly went back-to-back with Cassandra, eyeing the bandit woman cautiously. "You okay, Captain?"

"Combination attack!" the sniper shouted as the two bandits advanced with surprising speed. "Farben von Isis!"

Lyn nodded happily and threw her rapier into the air. The pirate captain ran forward and jumped, knowing that Lyn would get underneath her in time. Sure enough, the first mate crouched down and used her hand as a springboard to launch her captain as high as she could. Cassandra spun gracefully around, watching as Lyn ducked quickly enough to dodge the attacks of both bandits. Grabbing the rapier between her forearms, she plummeted earthward, her pistols held in such a way that the three blades curved to form a makeshift trident. Commander Julian was quick enough to dodge the falling pirate, but the other bandit was not as lucky. She cried out in pain and shock as the bladed pistol butt and rapier pierced through her calf, pinning her to the deck.

"Clarissa!" the bandit commander shouted, springing to his feet and lunging forward.

Before he could reach her, Cassandra brought her other pistol up and jammed the barrel against the female bandit's head. "Don't move, Julian, or your friend will not live to see tomorrow."

His muscles twitched as if to try to intercept her, but her finger tightened dangerously on the trigger, making it crystal clear that he could not prevent her from firing off one bullet. "You think that we bandits are so weak? My soldier would gladly sacrifice herself to help me capture you."

"The very fact that she hasn't moved proves otherwise," Cassandra snapped, feeling weariness begin to seep into her limbs. She was perfectly content with resting for a moment, if only to catch her breath. "And if you were so inclined, you would attack me with the full knowledge that I would kill her before you reached me."

Commander Julian could think of no response to this.

"Give up, commander," Cassandra told him, trying to figure out if she could move quickly enough to shoot him. "You have lost. The four women you left on your raft are long dead and this fifth is not far behind them. Lyn, do me a favor and go check on Alexander. Make sure he's all right."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the first mate do as she was instructed. As soon as the black- and yellow-haired woman closed the trapdoor behind her, Cassandra began maneuvering herself around to better pull out her other pistol. "You would spare her the murder you are about to commit," Commander Julian observed. "I didn't think pirates had any humanity left in them."

"She's a special case," Cassandra admitted quietly, knowing that Lyn might possibly overhear her next words via the hole in the deck. "She needs someone to look up to and as despicable as I am, as badly as I wish someone else could be that role model, I must fulfill that responsibility. Raven!" she called.

The former assassin as at her side in an instant.

"Could you do me a favor and-"

She was interrupted by Cain and Damien's simultaneous return. The gigantic bodyguard and the massive navigator landed on opposite ends of the ship, causing the _Howling Knave_ to bob slightly more vigorously instead of the expected crazy tilting. Cain's labored breathing could be heard rolling down from the poop deck, while the navigator leaned on the forecastle railing, staring disinterestedly at the gathering on the main deck.

"Well, fuck," Commander Julian cursed. "I was prepared for an incapacitated musician, worn out captain, exhausted swordswoman and seasick traitor. Where did the superspeed and the dead man walking come from?"

"I have no need to explain to those about to die," Cassandra said. Without warning, she pulled the trigger, instantly slaying the trapped bandit lieutenant. Commander Julian gave a howl of rage and lunged forward, only to be crushed from above by the flaming navigator. Before he could move, the pirate captain threw her hand out commandingly. "Do not kill him, Damien!"

"An' why not?" he asked, managing to keep the struggling bandit in check.

Cassandra had a split second to come up with a reason he would accept. "He's been tormenting me even since I met him, so he's my kill. How do you like it when people steal your kills?"

Damien dug his claws into his opponent's back, causing the bandit to scream in pain, and pushed him away. Kicking the wounded bandit over to his captain, he walked into the men's quarters and promptly fell to the floor below. Barely containing her laughter at his surprised roar, Cassandra glanced up at Cain and gestured at the door. "When I said he wouldn't care, I also said that you had to warn him."

"Sorry," Cain muttered sheepishly, rubbing the side of his shoulder as he climbed across the deck and stuck his head through the door.

"Anyway…" she trailed off. "What am I to do with you?"

Commander Julian spat a mouthful of blood at her and gave a sneer with reddened teeth. "You're a goddamned murderer. Do what you do best."

"You have no idea what I do best," she hissed, crouching down to put her mouth by his ear. "You have no idea who I am. I know your entire island backwards and forwards. I know your infrastructure, military might and defensive strategies as well as you do. Your loss was inevitable. Perish knowing you lost against the future Pirate Queen. That is the last honor you will have, bandit. Manus Lavernae."

Unfortunately, Commander Julian proved to be quite resilient despite his grievous injury. He threw his hand up in time to block, barely wincing as the blade penetrated the flesh between the bones in his palm. Yanking the pistol out of her hand, he punched her so hard she plowed through the roof of the galley and the floor of the women's quarters. She hung there for a moment, splinters digging painfully into her sides. Knowing that there were few threats more dangerous than a cornered fighter with nothing more to lose, she quickly wormed her way out of the fissure and dropped to the kitchen floor amid a flurry of wood flecks and dust.

"Enough of this," she vowed, standing up and pulling the biggest splinters out of her torso. After removing enough to reduce the flaring pain to a strong throb, she limped over to the counter and picked up two large knives. Spinning them around, she kicked open the galley door to confront the wounded bandit.

Commander Julian was leaning heavily on the mast, his breath coming in bloody bursts of air. He glanced up as she advanced, his lips parting in a crimson smile. "You are one tough bitch, you know that?"

"Ferramentum Putae." The bandit staggered backwards quickly enough to avoid most of the blow, but blood still began to trickle out of the cuts across his abdomen as he fell to the ground. Obviously realizing that the time for banter had long gone, he began fumbling blindly behind him for his weapon, not realizing that Damien had inadvertently knocked it to the side. He did, however, find one of her pistols and his fingers curved around the barrel. Cassandra lunged forward to attack, but he torqued his body more quickly than she could move. His right arm flew around like a trebuchet, driving the weapon deep into her side beneath her ribs.

"Gotcha now," he sneered, his pain evident in his voice.

Cassandra tilted her head to the side, before violently bringing her right hand around to stab deeply into his wrist, severing the tendons and loosening his grip on her weapon. With barely a flinch, she reached down and yanked out the bladed pistol, squirming around slightly to lessen the pain of the injury. He reached out to grab her, but his fingers held only a fraction of their former strength. He only managed to snag the corner of her tank top, but his arm still held enough power to tear the article of clothing from her body.

Her glare narrowed as his eyes widened, staring openly at her lithe form. "Why do you show injuries from so few of my attacks?" he marveled, falling backwards as blood loss further weakened his limbs.

"Once again, I have no need to explain myself to those about to die," she informed him quietly. She listened to the wind blowing across the deck vacant save for the two combatants, to the cawing of the seagulls, to the pulse of the ocean waves. "You have no more place in this world, Julian. Saggita Diania."

He gave a wet cough as she shot a hole clear through his forehead, spraying her with blood. She stared coldly down at his corpse, running through all the trouble he had put her through and the pain he must have suffered in the end. Her icy eyes snapped around as a hand lightly touched her shoulder, finding herself staring into the onyx orbs of the ship's doctor. "Do not... return to the woman you were before," Raven murmured. "Calm yourself."

She took a deep breath and calmed her adrenal system down, holstering her weapons to put finality on the conflict. "Thank you, Raven. You're…"

Cassandra had not at all been prepared for the doctor to suddenly slump to the side and barely caught her before she hit the floor. Raven struggled to stand again, but her legs failed to support her. "I… apologize," she whispered, not looking up at Cassandra. "It is not right… for me to show… such weakness."

"Please," Cassandra said lightly, concern for her friend overcoming her boiling rage. "Of all the people in the crew, I'm the one you don't need to pretend to be invincible for. After all, I once had you completely at my mercy, did I not?"

The black-clad woman dipped her head once. "That you did. Can you… help me into the medical ward?"

An enormous hand gently picked her up and brought her over to the hole in the deck. Nodding to Cain in acknowledgement, Raven slipped into the hole, alighting softly on the floor below. The bodyguard swiftly fashioned a small plug out of Commander Julian's mace and used it to block the hole. "It must be hard being a captain," he said sympathetically. "Though I am curious about what Raven was talking about."

"I haven't even explained that to my own crew," Cassandra sighed, toying with her bra strap. "Put this episode from your mind, please. Think about your home or lunch or something."

At the mention of food, his face took an a pale green sheen and he retreated slightly. "I'd rather not think about that at the moment."

Cassandra let out an amused laugh. "If you're going to throw up, feel free to do it overboard."

"I might just take you up on that," he gagged, covering his mouth with his hand. He climbed into the poop deck and lay down, disappearing from view.

Cassandra shook her head and stared down at the corpse of her former pursuer. "Again, what am I to do with you?" she wondered aloud as she withdrew the kitchen knife from the bandit's arm and stared at the crimson liquid staining the steel blade.

"Fuckin' cocksuckin' shit-fer-brains," Damien grumbled as he emerged from the men's quarters. "Th' fuck did 'e do t' th' floor?"

"If you haven't noticed, he's over sixteen feet tall," the sniper told him. "Where did you think he would sleep?"

"Out in the fuckin' rain," he growled. "He ain' stayin' 'ere anyway."

"He's the reason I managed to escape," Cassandra said sternly. "The least I could do was accommodate him for the moment. Besides, he said he would put it back the way it was when he leaves."

The berserker gave an unconvinced grunt. "Wha'ever. Wha's for lunch?"

"Oh right!" Cassandra shouted, suddenly remembering what she had been doing before Commander Julian had interrupted. "What do you want to eat? We're running low on meat and eggs, so we have to ration those until Reichmann Island."

His emerald eyes flicked down to the deceased bandits. "They look fuckin' tasty."

For a moment, Cassandra thought he was kidding. Then she remembered exactly who she was talking to and gave a mighty groan. "Are you honestly going to resort to eating people to have some meat?"

"Done it before," he said offhandedly, crouching down before the female bandit.

The pirate captain nodded slowly at this. "And who else knows that you're a cannibal?"

"Songbird an' tha' cumgarglin' concubine," he replied.

_Sometimes, his manner of speech can be really annoying_, she mused. "Can I take a shot in the dark and assume you mean Raven?"

"Aye." He lifted one of the bandit's arms and sniffed it, before curling his lip with displeasure and tossing the body overboard. "Even tol' me which parts t' eat."

Cassandra sighed. "Well, there's no way I can stop you because your moral compass is even more skewed than mine and you would have no idea what I'm talking about. If Raven approves and there are no health risks, there's no reason why you shouldn't. But can you do me a favor and not tell anybody unless absolutely necessary?"

He looked down at her with genuine confusion in his eyes. "Why'd I do tha'?"

The pirate captain put her hand to her face and let it drag across her features. "Just eat him as quickly as you can. More to the point, I've completely lost my appetite."

Averting her eyes as he began to study Commander Julian, she opened the trapdoor and descended into the medical ward to check on her crewmembers. Raven, having finished binding her own wounds, was studiously stitching a long gash on Lyn's back with a quick and sure hand. Lyn, for her part, had screwed her eyes shut, her face paler than usual, if that were even possible. Raising one eyebrow, Cassandra leaned on the doorframe and asked, "Don't you have any anesthetic?"

"She refused it," Raven droned, her gaze not straying from her work. "She says that she would like to experience what Damien must go through every time he fights."

Cassandra closed her eyes. "Lyn, inflicting pain upon yourself isn't going to make you understand him any more than you do now. Please, since you're almost done here, can you promise me to just take the easier way in the future?"

The first mate jerkily moved her head from side to side, sweat beading on her brow.

"I didn't think so," Cassandra sighed. "Never hurts to try. Oh, by the way, Commander Julian ruined your tank top."

The pair of electric blue eyes snapped open and fixed upon the sniper. "I… liked that one! You're never… borrowing my clothes again!"

"Well certainly not your tank tops," Cassandra shot back. "They don't fit me very well."

"Are you saying I'm fatter than you?" Lyn said indignantly, trying to twist around to watch Raven cut the thread and wipe away stray droplets of blood.

The pirate captain began choosing her words carefully. "It's not a width issue. It's more of a…"

"Your bust is greater than hers," the curvaceous doctor interjected.

Cassandra exhaled deeply. "Thank you, Raven."

"You are welcome," came the reply.

"Oh!" Lyn chirped. "Why didn't you just say so?"

"'T's not like everyone doesn' notice."

The sniper raised an eyebrow at the bloody man lumbering down the stairs. "And since when have you been interested in the bosoms of your crewmates?"

"Knowin' and carin' ain' the same fuckin' thing," he growled.

"For once, I agree with him," Raven droned.

"Though you shouldn't feel bad," boomed a voice from above. "You're all not even half my size, so they look basically the same to me."

Cassandra glared amusedly up at the bandit peeking in through the hole. "And what makes you think I need your input?"

Cain was about to respond when a soft groan interrupted the conversation. All eyes turned to the bedridden musician, who was blinking blearily from the brightness. He slowly sat up and stared at the men and women around him, remaining completely silent. He put his hand out and patted the table beside him, quickly locating his glasses and donning them. "Hi all," he said weakly. "What did I miss?"

There was a brief pause while the pirates and bandit tried to figure out how best to respond.

"We were saying that just because Captain has smaller breasts than I do doesn't mean we think less of her!" Lyn said at last.

The entire ship resounded with laughter at Alexander's astonished sputtering.

* * *

Well, that certainly wasn't how I expected the chapter to end. I think the flow got a bit jerky towards the end, but trying to fix it has been a colossal pain. At least it's better than it was before.


	43. A Sudden Attack

I have to say, I've been looking forward to this chapter for quite some time. For the record, I don't own One Piece. This is the beginning of the arc, right?

* * *

"Cannonball!" Lyn's cheer was literally drowned out as she plunged into the dark waters. She resurfaced a moment later, whipping her head around to shake off excess seawater. Laughing happily, she threw her arm out, splashing Damien with a burst of water. The navigator responded in kind, his wings and arm creating a miniature tsunami. Lyn managed to dive clear through it, tackling him and trying to dunk him underwater. Laughter booming through the air, Cain submerged them both with a single hand before being swiftly dragged under himself.

Alexander was reclined on one of Cassandra's patio chairs, eyes flicking back and forth as he read in the lamplight. However, the pirate captain couldn't help but notice the wistful glances he occasionally cast overboard. She was leaning on the railing next to Raven, both of them watching the trio playing in the water. "You could be in there with them," the sniper said offhandedly to the nearly-invisible doctor.

"Such pointless frivolities are a waste of time," came the monotonous reply.

"Because you're definitely being prevented from doing something useful," the musician told her sarcastically.

She whirled around on the ball of her foot faster than the eye could blink. "The only reason you are fully conscious at the moment is because of my management. Do not take this for granted."

He glanced up at the intravenous drip leading into his arm. "And remind me again why the IV is necessary? I haven't lost blood and-"

"You gave a significant quantity of your blood to Damien while you were unconscious," Raven murmured. "It also keeps you hydrated and prevents you from moving."

"Are you kidding me?" Alexander asked. "I'm bone tired and I'd be more than willing to properly hydrate myself. This treatment is more suited for Lyn or Captain. And why is Damien allowed to go into the water if he's so heavily injured?"

"His body heat sterilizes his wounds and significantly reduces the chance of infection or parasitic invasion. Furthermore, his consumption of one full keg of alcohol has increased the fluid in his body without increasing his overall salinity. If he accidentally consumes a few mouthfuls of seawater, this will help restabilize his salt levels. I could hook him up intravenously like yourself, but keeping him still without knocking him unconscious would be nigh on impossible, even with Cain's superior strength."

"Thank you, Raven, for the incredibly detailed explanation," Cassandra said. "Now tell me what you think of the book."

"I'll admit, it is intriguing," he answered, returning to his reading. "The connection with the evolution of music and militaristic state of the world… I've never even heard of this. Where did you get this?"

"Picked it up somewhere," she responded dismissively. "I have no interest in music, but wars can draw in outsiders that don't want to be drawn in, especially if said outsiders are going to be important in the world stage in the future."

The alchemist gave a small smile as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "But of course, O future Queen of the Pirates. How could I forget I'm part of such an important crew. In the future."

Cassandra opened her mouth to add something, but was cut off by a joyful shout from below. "Come on, Captain! Join us!"

"No thanks," she called down. "I don't like swimming."

"Fine then! Raven! How about you?"

"I already said no," the doctor droned.

Alexander's smile broadened. "What's the harm in having a little break from escaping from mercenaries, guards and/or bandits?"

"I, like you, need to rest," she deadpanned. "I, like you, would probably drown if I attempted to swim. That is why I, like you, am not in the water at this time."

"You wouldn't be in the water if we took a break a week from now," Alexander shot back. "I know it's hard for you, but it'd mean a lot to Lyn and Damien if you showed that you too could enjoy yourself doing 'pointless frivolities' with them. It'd really build crew morale."

"I am not in charge of crew morale. You are."

Cassandra laughed lightly. "Can't argue with that, Alexander."

The musician sighed and closed his book. "I am getting nowhere here, though not for lack of trying. Do we have any leftovers from dinner?"

"Cain and Damien polished them off," the sniper replied. "I thought Damien was a stomach on legs, but Cain is completely different."

"Does it have to do with the fact that he's three times bigger than most humans?" Alexander ventured.

"He ate half of our stores as a snack," Cassandra stated. "He's a human black hole."

"Fantastic." He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "How long until we reach Reichmann Island?"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Well, at this rate we'll never reach there. If we pulled up the anchor, lowered the sails and were actually moving, we'd probably arrive sometime tomorrow."

"So we have to feed Cain for a whole day?" Alexander groaned. "What are the rest of us going to eat?"

"I'm sure he'll leave enough food for the rest of us. Won't you, Cain?" she yelled down.

With a mighty surge, the bandit rose high enough out of the water to grab onto the side of the ship. Hauling himself up, he brought himself to their level, the _Howling Knave_ tilting slightly under his weight. "Of course I will. I can ration food just like any soldier. If bandits had to eat the same meals every time, we'd be forced to surrender at the first sign of a siege."

"We won't starve you," Cassandra assured him as he sank back into the waters. "And there's no chance we'll die of thirst, so that's good."

"Hey, I'm supposed to be resting," Alexander protested. "I'm not going to be turning anything into water."

The pirate captain eyed him strangely. "I was actually referring to the near-limitless amount of seawater combined with Damien's flames for distillation and Raven's chemicals for disinfectants. But if you have to think everything has to revolve around you, go right ahead."

Alexander didn't rise to the bait. "Very funny, Captain. In all seriousness, what are we going to do when we get to Reichmann Island?"

"Obviously we need to restock our supplies," she listed. "Food and water are obvious. We need more wood and metal, especially if Cain wants to give us a parting fix-up. More herbs and medicines, right Raven? Plus, we need to get a functioning Log Pose so we can navigate through the Grand Line."

"Here is a recommended list of items in the aforementioned categories that I am in charge of," Raven murmured, her arm vanishing in a black blur.

Cassandra snatched the knife out of midair, unwrapping the note tied to the hilt. "And you couldn't have delivered it any other way?" Alexander asked.

The curvaceous doctor remained resolutely silent.

"Most of these are not unreasonable," Cassandra said after a moment. "Some of these are only available on the black market, but that shouldn't be a problem."

"This has been bugging me for a while now," Alexander began after a deep breath. "How are you privy to so much information and most of it completely illegal?"

"We all had lives before we became pirates," Cassandra reminded him. "I'll admit I was on the shadier side of the law, learned how to fight, kill and survive. Legality was not my main concern and still isn't. You're technically a criminal too, you know."

"Pirates are different," Alexander sniffed. "Most of us are motivated by freedom."

The sniper gave a dry laugh. "Well, on Reichmann Island, the market is so rigidly controlled that everything is regulated, from guns and prostitutes to toothpaste and tangerines. The Reichmanns, the family in charge of the island as you can probably guess, have high taxes on absolutely every aspect of life there. We'll likely have to pay 1,000,000 Beli just to dock there and another 500,000 per person to leave the boat to visit the island. I hate paying so much money, but there are no other islands that are within reasonable sailing distance of both our current location and Reverse Mountain."

Alexander had the decency to look surprised. "Okay, that I'll admit is a reasonable island to resort to the black market. Out of curiosity, who's getting visas to leave the ship?"

"Are you kidding me?" Cassandra asked. "I need to leave, you need to leave, Raven needs to leave and Cain needs to leave. Damien and Lyn can remain here, but I wouldn't trust them to stay if One Piece itself were aboard this ship. Bottom line is that we're be burning at the very least 2,500,000 just to walk around the island. After buying supplies, we'll probably be down millions of Beli. We have the money, but after this we'll be significantly closer to bankruptcy. This particularly affects us three, as Lyn's beauty and Damien's strength earn them relatively free rides. That's why they absolutely cannot be left alone."

"Or at the very least make sure they have money and visas with them at all times," Raven droned.

Cassandra nodded. "Here's my proposition: Alexander goes with Cain to fetch supplies. This will ensure a single trip to minimize time on the island. Lyn and I will stay behind on the ship while you and Damien go acquire our less respectable supplies."

"Are you sure you want to send Damien with Raven?" the portly musician inquired.

"Well, what do you think?" Cassandra asked.

"Leave Lyn and Damien here and go with Raven," Alexander proposed. "That way, you both can be done in short order, Raven won't have to deal with Damien and nobody's the wiser. There's a hundred percent chance that one of them will wander away from the ship, but what's the worst that could happen?"

"Apocalypse," Cassandra deadpanned. "There is no way-"

"I do not agree with Alexander's plan." The pirate captain paused mid-sentence, surprised with Raven's interruption. "We still have the five Baby Den-Den Mushi from the Otan Mercenaries on Autumn Isle. I do not believe Damien will be content waiting around, so he should go with Alexander and Cain and be monitored by one of the Baby Den-Den Mushi. I myself will carry one, along with Cassandra and Alexander. So long as Lyn does not separate from Cassandra, the entire crew will be in tight communication."

The sniper mulled this over. "This is actually quite good. Good plan, Raven."

"It was your plan, Captain," Alexander reminded her. "She only got rid of Damien."

Cassandra blinked. "Oh. That's right. Then it's settled, that's what we'll do"

She turned back to the trio playing in the dark waters. Lyn was riding on Damien's shoulders, pulling on two of his dreadlocks as if they were reins. The navigator was repeatedly charging Cain, who was acting as a matador. In between bursts of laughter, Lyn was babbling something excitedly into Damien's ear as they thrashed through the murky water.

"Wait, when did you have the chance to get those Den-Den Mushi?" Alexander asked suddenly. "Was every group carrying one?"

"That is correct," Raven droned. "The one from the group that attacked Damien has been traumatized, but they have always been tough creatures. You can have that one, since you will be on the ship with the spare Baby Den-Den Mushi."

"Where are they now?" Cassandra inquired.

"I have them in the medical ward," came the response. "However, they are-"

She paused as a clawed hand bit deeply into the deck, hauling up the scarred navigator. Damien forced his way through the rail, causing it to buckle slightly. Lyn was still valiantly hanging onto his dreadlocks, cheering him on. Clambering fully onto the deck, he shook seawater from his form and fixed his eyes on Cassandra. Cocking his head to the side, he exhaled deeply, his breath manifesting as a burst of weak flame.

"Yes, Damien?" she asked, wondering what had prompted his abrupt arrival on deck.

"I was just talking about how amazing you are!" Lyn informed her. "Like how you so quickly thought of an excuse for the bandits and how you endured-"

She gave a cry of surprise and delight as he reached around and yanked her off his shoulders, throwing her into the ocean. Bringing his arm around, he planted his five talons firmly onto the deck. Using his three functioning limbs, he pushed off hard, using his burst of speed to tackle Cassandra firmly around the middle. She winced as she felt a few ribs crack, but nevertheless managed to slip out from his clutches before he could grasp her tightly. Grabbing the railing, she flipped onto it, only to be knocked to the main deck by a powerful roundhouse kick to the hip. She bounced once and crashed into the wall of the men's quarters, covering her mouth as she gave a wet cough. She took it away to see dark blood covering her palm and looked up with horror as the berserk navigator landed heavily before her, his left arm flying around in a devastating downward smash.

"Stand down, Damien," Raven ordered, flitting between them. "Kraur Golnauk."

Bracing herself, she crossed her arms before her and accepted the full force of the blow. For a moment, Cassandra hoped that she had refined that particular technique enough to endure the attack. However, this proved to be false, as the black-clad doctor couldn't move in time to dodge Damien's next attack: a lightning-fast jab to the middle of the chest. Raven flew backwards, smashing clear through the wall amid a flurry of wooden shards.

"What do… you want?" Cassandra asked as the berserk navigator's eyes flicked down to her.

"I fuckin' 'ate liars!" he thundered, reaching down and grabbing her by the throat.

Her legs kicked wildly as she tried in vain to loosen his grip on her neck. "What… lie?" she managed.

"Don' fuck wit' me!" His scalding hot breath washed across her face, causing her to wince with pain.

She tried her best to remember what he was talking about. Suddenly, Lyn's face flashed before her eyes, mouthing something with her ghostly lips. Whether this was a vision or her first mate's actual spirit was irrelevant at this point. "Is this… about what I told the bandits? About your death?"

His vice grip tightened, cutting of her air supply. Raising her as high as he could, he stood stock still for a moment, his crazed stare analyzing her every move. Apparently not finding what he was looking for, he gave bestial roar, chilling the blood in her veins. Her vision began to grow blurry and waver as she tried desperately to breathe. Curling his lip with displeasure, he tossed her high into the air, almost high enough for her to grasp he rigging and elude his boundless rage. Sadly, she plummeted back earthwards and was sent spinning by a painful backhand that shattered her jaw. Coming to rest against the recently repaired galley door, she greedily sucked in breath and tried to blink away the blood oozing out of a cut above her eye.

Damien lumbered after her, but was stopped as a new threat placed himself between the wild navigator and the wounded captain. Still shedding seawater, Cain loomed up to his full height, towering above the raging sadist. "Why are you attacking your own captain?"

"Outtta my fuckin' way," came the growled reply.

"I am a bodyguard and as such-"

Damien cut short his speech with a swift punch, which Cain blocked with ease. He lifted the navigator, only to promptly drop him as Damien set himself on fire. His face morphing into one of determined impassivity, Cain reared back and dealt the berserker a sharp kick, but Damien was undeterrable. Instead of being sent flying, he twisted to the side, taking the kick in the shoulder and spinning around like a top. Using his clawed toes to come to a halt, he threw his fist upwards, meeting the bandit's next blow halfway. A massive shockwave rent the ship, sending canvas flying, ropes snapping and boards creaking.

"What?" Cain grumbled in surprise.

"Outta my fuckin' way!" The navigator leapt up and flipped backwards, his foot connecting with the tip of Cain's chin. The massive bandit blinked rapidly as he froze stiff as a board. Taking advantage of Cain's incapacitation, Damien jumped clear over the man's head, grabbing the back of his leather vest and dragging him down to the deck. Cain let out a muted grunt as his skull slammed into the wooden boards, certainly dazing him if not knocking him unconscious. He might have recovered had Damien not backflipped into the air and landed elbow-first on the bandit's chest. To finish him off, Damien grabbed Cain's belt and twirled around, throwing him through the portside railing and into the ocean.

All obstacles out of his way, Damien turned his attention back to the injured Cassandra, his teeth bared in a heinous snarl. "I ain' done ye', Cap'n."

"Damien!" His head snapped around and he gave a mighty bellow. Alexander was standing proudly on the poop deck, firmly clutching his IV pole for support. "Hold your temper! It was only a small lie to protect us all!"

Disturbed laughter boiled forth like lava from a volcano. "A lie's a lie! T' all of us!"

"What are you rambling about?" the portly alchemist asked, frowning slightly. "She hasn't lied to us at all."

"Yer fuckin' blind!" Damien shouted, planting a foot on the former assassin's back to keep her pinned. "She-"

He paused mid-rant as Raven appeared before him, her hand reaching out to strike. Before her fingers could touch him, he threw himself forward, nearly catching her in a powerful body slam. She floated around the attack like smoke on the wind, her waspknives sliding out of their sheaths. Upon hearing the slick sliding sounds, Damien bared his teeth and extended his own talons, setting the tips alight. He threw his hand around, leaving five trails of flame in the air. Fiery claws met poisoned blade for the briefest of moments before the two fighters sprung apart. They single-mindedly threw themselves together once more, each seeking to beat the other senseless. Raven was constantly accelerating, moving faster and faster around the berserk navigator, who was reduced to taking mad swipes at the untouchable woman.

"Stay still, ya shit-eatin' bilgerat!" Damien roared.

"Raakhat." The man yowled in pain as a fountain of blood erupted from his left arm. He stopped attacking to clutch at his wounded limb, crimson pouring out of the reopened wound Madaxe had given him. Raven seized the opportunity and darted in for another attack, but was knocked head over heels as a massive explosion shook the _Howling Knave_. Cassandra shouted as flames licked her skin, too overcome with pain to put them out. Lights danced in front of her eyes and her head spun madly as she tried to reorient herself. Her vision eventually cleared, revealing the hell that had befallen the ship.

Fire raged across the ship, illuminating the damage with a harsh orange glow. The deck was fractured in many places and charred black. The main mast, already damaged from earlier that day, now looked on the verge of snapping in half. Parts of the sails were marred by gaping holes, flames crackling around the edges. And at the very center of it all, Damien crouched on all fours like some beast from the depths of the underworld, blood and fire covering his muscles, his eyes filled with bestial rage, large canines glinting in the firelight. He threw his head back and howled long and hard, filling her heart with fear. He was no longer focused on her. He simply looked like he wanted to incinerate everything in his vicinity.

Raven extracted herself from the wall of the galley, slipping out from behind a batch of flames. Parts of her skintight outfit were missing, revealing patches of skin darkened by soot. Her hair had become undone, but she was not about to fix it again until her task was complete. She stumbled slightly as she approached the berserker, but held her gaze level. She halted before him and stared emotionlessly into his eyes, calmly adjusting her mouthpiece to keep it from slipping. "You are a danger to those around you, Damien. For the sake of others, you must be subdued. For injuring Cassandra, this will not be pleasant."

He didn't respond to her words, wrapped up in his immolation. Raising her gloved left hand, she drummed her fingers across his skin. Only then did his green eyes meet hers, his hackles rising as he caught sight of her.

"This will hurt," she droned mercilessly, staring up at him. "Ghaashurz Nûl."

She slammed her palm into his chest. He slowly cocked his head to the side, his mouth opening to say something. His eyes began to roll back in his head and he wobbled from side to side. But just as suddenly as she had appeared, his eyes focused once more and he steadied himself, standing up straight. Cassandra saw that Raven's hand was ever so slightly off center and as such had not inflicted the full strength of her attack. Slowly reaching around, he grabbed the former assassin's wrist, drawing her close to him.

"You know," he snarled. "You know. She 'asn' lied to… you…"

He staggered forward, bringing Raven helplessly along with him. He released her and pressed his hand against the mast, resting his head on it. His breath came in heavy pants as the effects of Raven's attack began to become apparent. Clutching her wounded side, Cassandra gave a couple labored gasps as she stared at the wild berserker. Raven crouched by her side and began to redo her ponytail, also recovering from the injuries she had sustained. Lyn had also climbed aboard again at some point, joining the others in watching what Damien would do next.

He turned jerkily around and slumped to a sitting position, staring back at the people observe him. His half-lidded eyes rolled around, never staring at one person for long. Then, much to everyone's surprise and trepidation, he slowly pulled himself to his feet, his head lolling from side to side. Raven slowly walked up to him, unfazed by his resilience.

"What a waste of a perfect fighting machine," Raven deadpanned. "I did not think he would be able to employ micrododging so easily. I will not make the same mistake twice."

"Don't!" The doctor paused, turning to stare at the captain painfully rising to her feet. "Don't."

"Cassandra, this is most unwise," Raven objected. "Unless you have sustained eye damage from his attack, you can clearly see-"

The pirate captain raised her hand for silence. Limping up to her navigator, she paused and clutched her wounded side, still gasping for breath. Her other hand came up to cover her mouth, which was still leaking blood. "'An was tha' abou'?" she managed, nearly overwhelming pain shooting through her face as she tried to speak.

He shook his head. His finger came up and pointed accusingly at her. Before he could move any further, his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell face-forward. Cassandra sighed as she heard Raven's waspknives slide back into their sheaths. The black-clad woman obviously intended to interrogate the navigator separately. Her entire body aflame with pain, she began trudging to the women's quarters, only to be intercepted by her first mate. "Raven's hurt, but you're more hurt!" she announced. "You need medicine, not bed!"

"Lemme res'." In truth, she just wanted to be away from her crewmembers for a while. "Do some'in' else."

"Okay!" Lyn immediately released her and scampered up the rigging. Cassandra began to maneuver her way over to the staircase, but was intercepted by a large, soft hand. Her first reaction was to stiffen and retaliate, but her broken ribs sent another flare of white-hot pain through her side. She was gently guided through the air and set down before her room, where Cain slowly released her. Her knees almost buckled, but she managed to grab onto one of his fingers in time.

"'M all right," she assured him, regaining her balance and looking him over. To put it lightly, he looked terrible. His chest and arms were covered in dark bruises and cuts. His face hadn't fared much better, large lumps covering his chin, cheeks and right eye. But despite his injuries, he somehow still seemed like he was ready to endure ten times as much damage. This was particularly amazing considering he hadn't been wearing his white armor during his brief fight with Damien. The two might have the same physical fortitude when the bandit was fully decked out for battle.

Cassandra gave a tired smile, revealing a set of teeth tainted dark crimson. "Lyn. Go to Lyn. She's def'nily confused. Cheer 'er up."

"Very well." After making sure she wasn't about to fall over, he leapt into the water, waiting for Lyn to follow him in.

Before entering, she looked up into her musician's bespectacled eyes, her sad smile fading slightly. "Looks like he attacked me af'er all."

Alexander had nothing to say.

She turned her eyes even higher, watching Lyn dive gracefully off the topmost yard. Shaking her head, she staggered into women's quarters, kicking the door shut behind her. Her next cough brought up another spattering of blood and wave of pain, but her goal was in sight. She hastily pulled off her boots and pants, throwing them against the wall. Gingerly, she attempted to remove her shirt, but the fabric kept rubbing painfully against her wounds. Growing frustrated, she seized a nearby throwing knife and cut her clothing off, accidentally cutting through her bra straps as well. Breast heaving with pain and exertion, she stood in the center of the room, almost completely nude.

_Damien is one hell of a fighter_, she mused, easing onto her bed. With a final burst of energy, she tore off her glove and exhaled deeply. The pain ebbing away like the receding tide, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

The mood about the _Howling Knave_ the next day was tense and gloomy. Cassandra still hadn't exited her room and nobody save for Raven had entered the women's quarters to check on her. Even Lyn had opted to sleep under the stars that night, curled up in what remained of the crow's nest. But the sun inevitably rose and the new day came. Alexander, Lyn, Raven and Cain all gathered on the main deck, none of them breaking the brittle silence. After a while, Alexander went into the galley and emerged some time later with breakfast, a simple combination of rice and the remaining fish. Wordlessly, the four men and women began to eat.

Their heads all snapped around as Damien exited the men's room, yawning as he idly scratched one of his many wounds. Completely ignoring the people congregated before him, he lumbered through them and scooped up his share, downing it in two short gulps. He went over to the anchor and pulled it up with his own strength, dumping it unceremoniously onto the deck. With one powerful leap, he flew up to the top yards and untied the sails, letting the canvas fill with the strong northern wind. He hopped over to the poop deck and vanished from sight, presumably directing the ship's course to Reichmann Island.

Still, the pirate captain did not leave her room. After waiting a while, the quartet silently scattered about the ship, each performing their own task. Lyn set about redoing the crewmembers' faces above the doorframe in the galley. Alexander lay in the medical ward, watching Raven compose more of her lethal poisons. Cain repaired parts of the ship as best he could, making sure everything was as good as he could get it before his departure.

The day pressed on.

An island began to creep into view, appearing over the edge of the horizon like a tentative snail coming out of its shell. When Lyn's shout of "Land ho!" filled the air, the atmosphere lightened considerably. It seemed as if the silence was just waiting to be cut short. The more usual bustle began to sweep about the ship. Alexander's stern reprimands and Lyn's argued retorts flew back and forth, interspersed with Raven's deadpan observations. Cain managed to catch a large squid for lunch, though the first mate couldn't go a minute without making some sort of doll out of the tips of its tentacles and attempting to scare her fellow crewmembers with it. Alexander brought Damien his food, which the sadist surprisingly accepted without comment.

Then, Lyn came up with the bright idea of a friendly spar, apparently still unsatisfied with the progress she was making. This turned into a large argument between Raven and Alexander, the former advocating for the permission of lethal weapons and the latter firmly against it. It was abruptly resolved as Cain fashioned them all blunt wooden variations of their respective weapons, with which Raven was unsatisfied, but did not voice any further disapproval.

A few bouts of fighting later, Raven sent the two pirates who had participated to the medical bay with a few heavy scratches and bruises. Cain was not without injury, but he had the benefit of being too big to fit into the spotless white room. Instead, he reclined against the forecastle deck, his massive arms draped across the wooden planks. He occasionally shifted as Raven flitted about, slathering him with ointments and stitching some of his more serious wounds together.

Then, the moment the quartet had been waiting for arrived. The door of the women's quarters creaked open and Cassandra emerged. Her torso and bare arms were wrapped in bandages, vanishing underneath her slightly torn orange T-shirt. Her customary black glove gripped the railing as she stared at the rapidly burgeoning island, her free hand shielding her eyes from the sun. Somehow, Lyn and Alexander chose that exact moment to climb back onto the main deck, freezing when they saw their captain. Cain lifted his head to stare at her as well, his scarred lips pressed firmly together.

After looking carefully from side to side, Cassandra opened her mouth and spoke three words. "Where is he?"

She followed their line of sight up to the poop deck and nodded in thanks, turning and beginning her slow ascent up the stairs. Cain rose to his feet, bringing Lyn and Alexander onto his shoulders so they could see as well. Raven flitted onto the starboard railing of the poop deck, preferring to be closer to the event to come. Everyone held their breath as Cassandra made it onto the deck, locking eyes with her unpredictable navigator. Slowly but surely, she walked over to him, stopping just before the wheel. His green eyes glared mistrustfully down at her, a curved canine protruding from his top lip.

But what happened next, nobody could have foreseen.

Cassandra reared back and punched Damien with all her might.

* * *

Well, that was fun, was't it? Damien was bound to snap sooner or later.


	44. Two Sides to Every Coin

Did I ever mention how absolutely insane these pirates can be? What kind of people attack those who could easily beat them into the ground? The Black Glove Pirates, that's who!

* * *

Lyn's mouth hung open with amazement.

Alexander's mouth hung open with amazement.

Cain's mouth hung open with amazement.

Raven's mouth was hidden, but it was still closed.

Damien remained resolutely silent, still merely staring down at her. Of course, her fist would have done more damage punching a block of cement, but the attack itself was not the important part. After he had completely beaten her the day before, Cassandra knew that the only way to maintain her dignity was to show that she was not afraid of him. So she waited, her gloved fist pressed against his abdomen.

"Yer still a lyin' 'arlot," he grumbled, turning his attention away from her.

She reached up and snagged one of his dreadlocks, pulling his head closer her own. After a short whispered sentence or two, the navigator gave a look of confusion. "Th' fuck you talkin' 'bout?"

More whispers.

"There ain' no fuckin' way I'm doin' tha'."

A short pause, then even more whispers.

Damien's look of confusion was being replaced by one of incredulity. "Jus' oo th' fuck d'ya think I am? I ain' no ass-kissin' peacekeeper an' I defnily ain' gonna 'elp ya like tha'."

Nodding in satisfaction, she stood up properly and began walking away. The three more expressive passengers collapsed to the deck in a combined facefault, obviously having anticipated neither the abrupt attack nor the equally abrupt resolution. "What was that?" Lyn cried. "What just happened?"

"A little argument between the two of us," Cassandra explained, hand on the railing as she descended the stairs. "Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?" Cain asked, shocked. "He beat the blazes out of you yesterday, nearly blew the _Howling Knave_ in half, and you just say not to worry about it?"

"Damien!" Cassandra called, turning around. "Will you attack Alexander, Lyn or Cain the same way you attacked me?"

"Prob'ly no'," came the short reply.

The pirate captain extended her free hand to the poop deck as if her argument could not be more obvious. "See?"

"Will you attack Cassandra like that again?" Cain boomed.

"Prob'ly."

The bandit's scarred mouth opened and closed as he tried to find something to say. "See?" he managed at last.

"Don't worry about it," Cassandra said dismissively. "He's not going to kill me. Believe me, if he actually came at me with the intent to kill, he would have done a lot worse."

"But who would win?" Lyn chirped inquisitively, entirely over her shock and uncaring about the brutal fight the day before.

Cassandra frowned at this. "Good question. Sadly, we'll never find out."

Lyn was completely unsatisfied with this answer. "How about a spar between the two of you?"

"Don' feel like it."

"Since when do you not want to fight?" Lyn asked in surprise.

Alexander sighed loudly. "There have been plenty of times when Damien doesn't want to fight. It's just that usually those times are when he perceives the threat as being unworthy of his time. This isn't always good because there's still a gap between what I can handle and what he doesn't want to handle."

"Yeah, yeah," Lyn dismissed, waving his words aside. "But I wanted to see a fight! We've all been fighting except for you two!"

"Cassandra and I will fight," Raven proposed.

The pirate captain gave a sputtering cough. "Wait, what?"

"She's injured and just endured what must have been a traumatic experience," Cain protested. "She's in no shape to fight."

"She can figh'." Everyone turned to the navigator, wondering what he was talking about. "Don' bullshit us, Cap'n, ya done enough o' tha' already. Ya be'er fuckin' fight."

Cassandra shared a long look with Damien, before slowly nodding her consent. She watched as Raven sped to the highest yard, perching there like a bird of prey. Sighing to herself, she began to climb the rigging to meet the waiting doctor, only to be stopped as five large fingers gripped the rope above her. "Why are you doing this?" the bandit asked quietly. "Why are you listening to him? You are his captain, his superior. Is it because he beat you last night? Because he's stronger than you?"

She looked at him sadly, appreciating his concern for her. "Because he's right."

He slowly moved his hand away as she continued up the rigging. Soon, she was balancing precariously on the narrow wooden beam and staring her opponent in the eye. "You didn't propose this fight to test my abilities and recovery and even if you did, you certainly wouldn't want to fight up here. You want to talk me about something."

"I do. Ran Irz." Raven leapt off the yard and turned around in midair, zipping back towards Cassandra. "While my arguments until now have been motivated by behavioral traits, last night was solid evidence that Damien has no place on this crew."

Cassandra's hands flew up, blocking Raven's attack and lashing out in retaliation. "Manus Lavernae. You know that I'm probably the only Captain who could both endure him and not outfight him."

Raven alighted on the flag pole jutting out from the crow's nest, safely out of Cassandra's reach. "He is a danger. He will kill you. I would kill him myself, but this seems to be out of the question. Therefore, I request that he be removed from the crew at once. If you would like to divulge your reasoning behind keeping such a threat aboard your ship, vocalize them. And do not speak of rights to be at sea or last defenses to be left behind. Such things are not valid for him."

The pirate captain's gaze darkened. "Then let me put it this way, my insubordinate doctor-"

"You speak of insubordination," Raven cut in. "Yet you do not extend the same title towards him."

"Damien's dream is to become the top fighter in the world," Cassandra plowed on.

"Aside from slaughtering the Fleet Admiral of the Marines. And do not use dreams as an excuse."

Cassandra gritted her teeth and threw herself forward, dashing along the yard. "He has the potential of being that fighter. He grows exponentially during each battle. He's already beginning to reach your level."

"He has much to learn before he reaches my level," Raven droned, twisting about and sending large crescents of energy from her feet. "Fra Furtun."

"But when you first met him, he wasn't able to counter your attacks," Cassandra persisted, dodging the blades of air. "I want to see him turn from a raw, unpolished rock to a shining gem."

Raven ceased her attack and sped to the opposite end of the yard, farther out of her captain's reach. "Blood diamonds are never worth the sacrifice made for their production."

"Do not lecture me about sacrifices for improvement," Cassandra hissed. "Not a night goes by that I'm not haunted by the innocents I've killed in order to complete my missions."

"And you are willing to sacrifice Alexander to see Damien grow?" Raven asked. "Are you willing to sacrifice Lyn?"

"Alexander has known Damien almost his entire life," the sniper retorted, firing off a couple shots for good measure. "Lyn is blunt, straightforward and would never even dream of lying to any of us. Both of them are safe from his anger."

"This is not about lies."

"This is about faith!" The echoes of her shout hung in the air. She paused and looked down, meeting the eyes of the four people staring up at them. "You will not be the best fighter in the crew forever, Raven. Sooner or later, Damien will surpass you. It might be tomorrow, it might be ten years from now. When that time comes, will you deny his value to the crew?"

Raven remained silent. Cassandra could hear the sounds of Reichmann Island ringing at the very edge of her hearing, indicating their proximity to the landmass. She balanced on the narrow yard as she waited for her doctor's response, knowing that it would mean the difference between a coherent crew and a broken one. Finally, the black-clad woman spoke. "If he kills you, I will kill him. If he kills one of the others, I will consider it your responsibility as captain to kill him. Non-permanent bodily injury, I will forgive. This is the last I have to say on the matter."

She kicked off the spar several times in a fraction of a second and sped towards the island, nearly vanishing from Cassandra's sight. Exhaling deeply, the captain holstered her weapons and grabbed a length of rope, using it to slide back down to the main deck. Before any of her crew could speak, she held up her hand for silence. "Alexander already knows of the plan, but I'll repeat it for the rest of you. Alexander, Cain, Damien, you three will be getting supplies. Alexander already has the list of what we need, but Cain, feel free to contribute in any way you see fit. Although you are leaving, we would appreciate any extra provisions you recommend. Lyn is going to be staying here with me. Alexander has a Baby Den-Den Mushi to communicate with me if necessary. Damien, you're going to be carrying one too."

"Ah?" came the surprised grunt. "Th' fuck would I wan' wunna those fer?"

"In the highly likely event that you wander off somewhere," Cassandra stated as she walked to the forecastle deck. "Now, we're coming up on the port now. The fact that the talking should be left to me goes without saying."

"But you just said it!" Lyn pointed out. Cassandra waited for a moment. "Oh… Okay!"

The sniper nodded and mounted the figurehead. This was the first time she was actually on the wooden statue while the ship was moving and it was an exhilarating feeling. She felt like she was hurtling across the waves by her own power. Her eyes narrowed as she saw where the ship was headed and called back, "Port at ten o'clock, Damien. Adjust accordingly."

The ship slowly glided towards the expansive pier. Cassandra took the opportunity to look over the island, checking to make sure it hadn't changed since she had visited it last. Most of it looked like any other regular island: small towns, large cities, wide fields. However, at the very center of the island, a large plateau of land protruded from the mostly flat countryside. On it, the enormous city that was R. Capital lay, its massive clock tower sticking out of the center like a sundial.

But what held her attention the most was the port village before them, R. Cetes. While it looked like any other village, it was connected to R. Capital by an underground trolley system, something few of the other cities had. R. Cetes also had unregulated markets and shady establishments. Most important of all, it was the only place where the Reichmanns were gracious enough to let pirates dock. The Reichmanns were a powerful family who knew that pirates often carried illegal goods, which sold for more than legal goods, which meant more money for them.

"Should I lower the flag?" Alexander asked quietly, sidling up beside her.

"Don't worry," Cassandra murmured. "Let me be clear. We're coming up on R. Cetes and this is the only place where you can identify yourself as a Black Glove Pirate. In fact, I'd rather you not identify yourself as such at all. You are simply Alexander, Cain, Lyn and the other one."

Lyn gave a small grin. "You can't stay mad at him forever, Captain! You always knew that he was a little cuckoo!"

"I would keelhaul him if he weren't one hundred percent right," Cassandra said. "But anyway! Furl the sails, ready the anchor, prepare to dock."

"You heard Captain!" Lyn shouted. "Alexander, start furling the sails, I'll be up there in a minute. Cain, get ready to throw the anchor overboard."

Alexander smiled. "It's technically the first mate's job to man the anchor."

"And until I grow as insanely strong as Damien or Cain, there's no way I'm putting that overboard," she responded, pointing at the anchor lying on the deck.

The pirate captain frowned at this. "That's not where it usually is."

"Because Damien's usually not the one pulling it up," Alexander remembered suddenly. "There's no way he would consider using the winch when he can haul it up on his own."

"Mystery solved," Cassandra said, before glancing at the musician and asking in a falsely saccharine voice, "Now Alexander, what did Lyn and I say not fifteen seconds ago?"

Alexander gave a firm salute and began climbing up the rigging to the main mast as best he could, Lyn swiftly scampering up after him. Cassandra turned back towards the nearing port, intent on resuming her musings, but her thoughts were interrupted before they began. "I know before you said that if I ever questioned Damien's presence, you'd blow my head off, but now I think I have firm reason to voice my own concerns."

The bandit froze as the sound of a pistol cocking reached the bodyguard's ears. The voice that followed was somehow even more frightening. "Cain, no offense, but our mutual agreement aside, you are a bandit and we are pirates. You have your way of doing things and we have ours. We may look and act like life's a big barrel of fun and games, but some of us are cold-blooded killers, rotten to the core. But that's not really the problem, is it. This is about Damien. Well, to see his place in the Black Glove Pirates would involve looking at the dynamics of the entire crew.

"I don't know how, but the crew is quite cleanly divided into two sections. On one side are Lyn, Alexander and myself. This side is the 'live life to the fullest by sailing the high seas' side. Their job is to keep the crew humane and alive, out of bad trouble and to remind us that life is to be lived. On the other, Damien, Raven and myself. Their job is to keep the first side from being overwhelmed by the corruption that as infested the world. They deal with the dark part of matters, do things that the first side wouldn't even dream about.

"Damien is a madman, but he's not dangerous to the first side. He's a product of the world we now live in and it's his job to destroy the second side. When I told a lie, not a small one, but a really big one, that's his area of expertise: obliterating potentially harmful threats. He doesn't realize it, though. If you asked him, he would be genuinely confused. But just as Lyn works tirelessly to maintain that white side, Damien works to erase the dark.

"Cain, let's face it, you're on the first side. There's just a moral thing that you won't be able to see past. On a good night, Damien drinks his own weight in liquor, then slaughters scores of men and eats them without skipping a beat. Raven has monitored the trafficking of drugs, underage prostitutes, weapons and poisons and even partaken in some before. Trafficking, that is. She once tortured a man for three days because he ruined her job.

"You may notice that I'm on both sides. I'd be disappointed if you didn't. I'm the captain of the ship, keeping the balance between the two. I am responsible for the deaths of countless innocent lives. Do I regret my actions? No. Would I do them again? Yes. But am I plagued by their faces in my dreams? Also yes. This is a sign that I am in both categories. Damien and Raven are in the second side, but not for the benefit of others. I do what I do to protect Lyn and Alexander. We are all necessary to the survival of the others.

"That is why Damien is on the crew. By fate or fortune or divine will matters not. He is here, he has a function, he is staying until he decides to leave of his own free will.

"Anything I say that doesn't sit well with you, Raven?"

Cain blinked at this. After such a tirade, the abrupt transition seemed out of place. He was almost completely unprepared for the doctor's voice to issue forth from the pirate captain's shoulder. "Your reasoning is as impeccable as ever, Cassandra. I apologize for doubting your motives. I was not seeing the larger picture."

"I am not a woman without logic behind her actions," Cassandra muttered to the Baby Den-Den Mushi. "I am prone to fits of hysteria, but aside from those, I think things through. Damien isn't just here because I want him to be here. Damien is here because he wants to be here. Did you see how quickly Alexander and Lyn forgave him for attacking me?"

"That reaction was after they saw that you were both unafraid of him and suffered no lasting injuries," the tiny snail droned, somehow speaking without moving its mouth.

"Yeah, speaking of which," Cain interrupted. "How the hell were you able to move like that after breaking half of the bones in your body?"

"Nothing can keep a pirate down for long," Cassandra said dismissively. "Back to what I was saying, what do you think the effects of the crew would be if I were to banish Damien and he actually left? Lyn would be distraught and Alexander would be a problem. Raven, you know not to underestimate him. He is using but a fraction of the potential of his Devil Fruit. Even with the materials he can transmute into, think of what he could do were he not blessed by a moral compass. Why, he could turn a man into solid stone or even dissolve him into water. If he were angry enough, he could be a killing machine nearly equal to his counterpart."

"That time will not come," the snail deadpanned. "Alexander is a truly peaceful pirate, through and through. He has used his Devil Fruit to incapacitate men attacking him, but never in a way that would prove to be fatal."

Cassandra nodded at this. "Isn't that the truth. Raven, be silent for a while. I'll give you instructions when I'm finished with these formalities." Glancing down to make sure the snail had gone back to sleep, she checked their progression and called back to Damien, "Ease up, now. Do you see the docks on our starboard side?"

"'Old 'ard." The _Howling Knave_ smoothly floated by the docks, halting only when Cain threw the anchor overboard. Cassandra glanced down at the dockmaster running across the piers up to them, holding his enormous hat as his head bobbed up and down. He was a short fellow with an overly large moustache, but the sniper knew despite his diminutive stature, he was a formidable fighter and a true no-nonsense man. She grinned pleasantly down at him as he approached, praying he didn't recognize her from her previous visits to R. Cetes.

"Hello, hello, hello!" he squeaked, halting before the bow and staring up at her. "State your name and rank, miss!"

"I'm Cassandra, Captain of the Black Glove Pirates," she informed him.

"Good day to you, Cassandra!" the dockmaster shouted cordially. "Very well then. In case you are not aware, you are currently attempting to dock at R. Cetes under a pirate flag, which incurs a special docking price to keep us quiet, doncha know."

"I'm willing to pay," she responded. "How much?"

"1,125,000 Beli," he stated immediately. "In addition, each person aboard must pay 500,000 Beli to acquire a visa to visit the island. Non-compliance with these agreements will result in a confiscation of your vessel and the detainment of those aboard."

"I'll pay," she assured him. "And I would like specification on the visas, if its not too much trouble."

The dockmaster looked up at her with a twinkle in his eye. "Oho! Been here before, have you miss? Very well then. What specifications will you be requesting?"

"Cassandra, right to bear firearms, right to bear blades, right to hidden weapons, right to parley, access to restricted items, access to restricted areas," she began to list. "Lyn, right to bear swords, right to practice religion. Damien, supernatural powers, mental instability. Alexander, right to practice music, right to practice religion, Devil Fruit User, access to restricted items. Cain, right to wear protective armor, right to conceal identity, right to bear blades, access to restricted items, access to restricted areas. All, access to all places ordinarily accessible only to citizens of Reichmann Island, freedom of speech. _Howling Knave_, ship, right to fly pirate colors, right to deny inspection without a search warrant."

An amused smile could be seen dancing across his lips. "Looks like you _have_ been here before. Very well then. That'll amount to a total of 3,875,250 Beli. I assume you have the money now?"

Cassandra reached into her pocket and pulled out a thick wad of bills. Swiftly counting out the required amount, she tied the bills together with a thin cloth cord and tossed them down to the dockmaster. "I already have a map of the city, so that will be all."

"Very well then," he repeated, bowing deeply. He began writing furiously on the clipboard he held in his left hand. After a short while, he folded the paper up and fed it to the snail attached to his back. He waited patiently until the Den-Den Mushi spat up the six documents, which all bore the official seal of Reichmann Island. Prying them from its mouth, he held the papers up towards the sky. Cassandra raised an eyebrow. Surely, she wasn't expected to be able to retrieve those documents from her high vantage point. Either ignoring or unknowing of this fact, the dockmaster waited, his hand sticking up in the air.

After a lengthy pause, Cain reached down and plucked the bundle of papers from the short man's grasp, handing them to Cassandra. The dockmaster gave one last bow before sprinting off to another ship approaching port. The pirate captain flicked through the papers, scanning them carefully to make sure they bore what she had requested.

"I guess I can count myself lucky that I picked your ship to join," the massive bandit rumbled. "There's no way I would have known to carry so much money or to obey such protocols."

Cassandra gave a non-committal murmur, examining Damien's passport to check if there were any loopholes she could exploit should he decide to murder an innocent bystander.

"What about Raven?" Cain continued. "Doesn't she need a visa?"

"No," the pirate captain said laconically. Flicking through them, she gave him his passport and hopped off the figurehead, making sure the rest of the crew hadn't scampered off already. Luckily, Alexander was keeping Damien and Lyn occupied by holding a ball behind his back and asking them to guess what material it was composed of. Chuckling softly to herself, the pirate captain strolled to the poop deck, interrupting the game.

"Here are the papers you'll need to travel around the island. Alexander, I gave you access to most items in the shops, though you'll need to be specific. If the need arises, both you and Damien can use your abilities without fear of persecution. Within reason, of course. Cain's going with you and he's free to leave whenever he wants, but I'd like him to at least stick around for the entirety of the shopping run."

Damien grabbed his, brow scrunching into a determined glare as he read the document. Alexander was scanning his as well, his dark eyes flicking back and forth. "Right to practice music? Access to restricted items?"

"That's part of how the Reichmanns are so wealthy," Cassandra explained. "Those who unknowingly break the rules are forced to pay a fine. In your case, I gave you leeway to use your trumpet, whether to alert me or simply to defend yourself. And access to restricted items will probably not be necessary, but I wanted to be sure. Raven is supposed to be gathering the illegal supplies, but if either of you three want something…"

"Ahoy there! Captain of the _Howling Knave_!"

Cassandra frowned in confusion and looked overboard, wondering what the commotion was. A band of five policemen were standing patiently on the docks, staring straight up at her. Leaning on the railing, she asked, "And what business do you have with me? If you know the name of my ship, then you know that I specifically requested the right to deny search without a warrant."

"And we have one," the leader called, holding up a lengthy piece of paper.

The pirate captain's eyes narrowed as she picked out certain words that filled her with simmering anger. She vaulted over the starboard rail, landing lightly before the small squadron. Snatching the warrant out of his hand, she gave an irritated hiss beneath her breath as she read the specifics. "I share the first name with a government assassin? Is this honestly the excuse you people have come up with?"

"The name of your crew is also similar to the organization of this assassin," the man elaborated. "I admit, you don't match our description of the woman at all, but orders are orders. Please command your crew to stand down and allow us to board."

She clenched her fist angrily, thrusting the warrant back to its owner. "Cain! Alexander! Damien! Take a walk! Lyn, come to me!"

Cain easily stepped off the ship, carrying the Devil Fruit user in one large hand. After setting him down, the pair began ambling along the pier, obviously not waiting for Damien. Lyn swung across from a length of rope, easily landing beside her captain. "Wassup? What's going on?"

"Customary search," Cassandra half-lied. "Happens to every ship docking here. Doubly so for pirates. Damien, I said now!"

"All righ', all right'," grumbled the navigator. "Don' getcher pan'ies inna bunch, Cap'n."

He leapt off of the poop deck, crashing down onto the dock behind the squadron of soldiers. Upon catching sight of them, his emerald eyes narrowed to a dangerous glare as he asked, "Marines?"

"Reichmann Island Police Force," the leader said haughtily. "We have no connection to those people."

Nodding slowly, Damien strode proudly after his two companions, who were obviously walking slowly so the berserker could catch up. Most curiously, the pair fell into step behind him as he thundered into R. Cetes. Cassandra felt the most appropriate reaction would be to raise an eyebrow, then dismiss the oddity entirely. She turned back to the _Howling Knave_, her lip curling slightly as she watched the islanders scuttle about her ship.

"What are they looking for?" Lyn inquired.

Cassandra turned to the first mate. "Nothing they're going to find." She clenched her fist, then paused and looked down at the black glove. She slowly unfurled her fingers, listening to the creaks of the leather and feeling the smoothness of the interior. Her head snapped around and she fixed her gaze at the trio receding into the distance. "Lyn, catch them if you can. Tell Alexander to get me a right-handed glove that's similar to yours and mine."

"Why?" came the predictable question.

"Go!" Cassandra commanded.

Lyn nodded and closed her eyes. The pirate captain neatly caught the artist as she slumped to the side, hoisting her into a bridal position. "Reichmann Island Police! I'm expecting a very important call at the moment. Do you think you could speed this up?"

* * *

Sorry it took so long, but I had to plan out how this arc would go.


	45. Knowledge is Power

I enjoyed this chapter immensely. Haven't figured out why yet.

* * *

Alexander stared about as they walked down the street. Reichmann Island was truly a terrifying place. The streets were practically devoid of life, giving R. Cetes the appearance of a ghost town. Only a few other people were present and they kept their heads down, obviously hurrying to their destination. This was probably to avoid the thorough investigation of the squads of enforcers patrolling every area, checking people randomly for identifications. During the past half-mile, they had been halted seven times and asked for their passports. Every single time, Damien marched onward without pausing for the islanders. Fortunately, their captain was one of the smartest in all the seas and his behavior was excused by the 'mental instability' clause of his passport. Alexander vowed never to question where Captain got her information or to doubt her reasoning. Without her, they would be nothing.

He had to admit, Cain's height probably contributed to their frequent interruptions. Alexander had never been on friendly terms with a man his size and it was a frightening experience. Well, relatively speaking. His lifelong friend was twice as dangerous, but at least looked relatively normal with his wings hidden, his claws retracted and his lips closed. Cain merely had the size to step on a normal man and the strength to reduce said man flatter than a sheet of paper.

"Where to, Damien?" Alexander asked lightly, trying not to provoke any furious responses.

The berserker gave no response. They were following him partly because they needed to keep an eye on him and partly because of his impeccable sense of direction. He seemed to be in a reasonably good mood, no flames or exposed metal appendages, but that could change as suddenly as the sea. Alexander would have to remember to keep up his good mood, possibly with alcohol and meat. His stomach gave a loud grumble at the thought, indicating that he too would benefit from some food.

"I'm sorry for that," Cain mumbled to him.

Alexander glanced up at the massive bandit, trying to deduce the reason for the apology. "Don't worry about it. You didn't eat too much more than we would have eaten by ourselves. Besides, we're at port and where there's a city, there are restaurants. Or in Damien's case, bars."

"Does he eat a balanced diet?" he asked. "His skill as a fighter will hit a plateau if he doesn't eat the right food."

"Don't worry about him," Alexander assured. "He's going to be the best fighter in the world. You've seen him fight, but imagine how good he could be if he could think three seconds ahead of time."

"First of all, he doesn't seem to be that shortsighted in combat," Cain disagreed. "Second of all, he has several people between him and his dream."

"Tha' jizz-covered sea bitch fer one," Damien grumbled without his usual anger.

"Look higher for a moment," Cain said. "What about those pirates allied with the Marines? They're rumored to be pretty tough."

Both pirates clenched their fists tightly. "Shichibukai," Alexander spat. "Scum who sold their souls in exchange for a free ride. We've yet to actually meet one, but we encountered Dart Madaxe's son. He was as big as you and twice as fierce."

"He let you get away?" Cain asked in surprise.

Alexander scoffed. "Damien nearly tore him in half and Captain put a bullet between his eyes. But the other Shichibukai are still traitors to their own cause. They'll receive no mercy from us. Pirates cooperating with the organization that nearly brought them to extinction. Unthinkable. It wouldn't be as bad if they acted like the Shichibukai of old, who affiliated themselves with the World Government and felt mostly apathetic towards the Marines. But after the resurrection of the legendary superweapon Jovon, the Marines wanted any pirates deemed powerful enough to use and selfish enough to demand immunity to ally themselves with the Marines instead, ensuring that no infighting would occur. So now we have loyal Government dogs not fit to call themselves pirates."

"But they're still powerful, right?" the bandit asked.

"Not as powerful as the Gokou, the Five Emperors of the New World," Alexander responded, eyes beginning to gleam with admiration. "Now those are true examples of pirates. After Gar D. Bol crowned himself King of the Pirates, he revived the role of the Emperors, ensuring a balance in the seas. Of course, because of the events following Whitebeard's Folly, he made sure there was one more emperor to make sure the stability was sound."

"Whitebeard's Folly?" Cain inquired.

"Shitty Songbird," Damien cut in. "'Ow many times're ya gonna spout all tha' shit?"

Alexander lightly punched his friend in the shoulder. "You know you loved listening to the stories about the pirates of old. Anyway, Whitebeard's Folly was when one of the old Yonkou gave his life in an attempt to free one of his crewmembers from the clutch of the Marines. Not only did he fail, but as he was the only thing keeping certain areas of the world under control, his death sparked the shitstorm that was one of the causes for the world going to hell for more than a few decades. Nearly got the Second Pirate King killed as well."

Cain winced. "Sounds like a catastrophe."

"You have no idea." Alexander smiled as he caught sight of a decent-looking restaurant. "Damien, what say you to getting something to eat?"

The pirate glanced around, his eyes falling on the same establishment Alexander had seen. "Fine."

Cain shook his head as the trio altered their course slightly. "I swear, I'm never sure if you're going to agree or burn the place down."

Without even turning around, he gave Cain the finger. Before the powerful sadist could enter, Alexander dashed in front of him, opening the door for his crewmember. "Now what are you doing that for?" Cain inquired. "Does everyone on the crew treat him like royalty? Is he the captain and Cassandra's just a figurehead?"

Both pirates erupted into laughter, startling the nearby patrons. Cain looked slightly annoyed as he sat down outside, being too big to fit through the door. "I'm sorry," Alexander managed at last, wiping tears from behind his glasses. "But that's just too-" He dissolved into another fit of laughter.

"I don't see what's so funny," the bodyguard mumbled.

"I apologize," Alexander insisted, his words somewhat discredited by the amusement dancing in his eyes. "It's just that the thought of Damien leading the crew is just too absurd to think about. The reason I opened the door for him is because otherwise he'd walk right through it. We treat him like that because he has quirks that require constant vigilance and we need to keep a low profile. You should try escorting Lyn around some time. It's an equally annoying hassle, I assure you."

Cain was about to respond when a waiter cleared his throat loudly. Apparently, he had been standing there for quite some time and was growing irritated at being ignored. Upon seeing that he had their attention, he harrumphed and stood up straight. "Welcome to the Blue Oyster. Are you three waiting to be seated?"

"We are," Alexander confirmed. "Is it possible to have my large friend come inside or will he have to remain outside?"

The waiter looked Cain up and down, estimating the man's size. "I'm afraid he'll have to sit outside."

The bandit nodded acceptingly and leaned back against the side of the building. "No problem. Is it possible to be served outside?"

"I shall make an exception in your case," the waiter informed him. He paused as Damien walked right back through the open door, halting next to Cain.

Alexander gave a sheepish grin. "Can all of us just eat out here?"

"You aren't from around here, are you?" the waiter asked following them outside. "It is most improper to do such things." His eyes widened to the size of cannonballs as Damien leaned forward and bared his viciously sharp teeth. "B-but I'm s-s-sure it would be f-fine."

Nodding with satisfaction, Damien stood up straight and his eyes darkened. "Get all yer fuckin' meat, raw."

"Shouldn't we wait to get a menu?" Alexander asked. "I for one would be interested in seeing what they have."

The berserker glanced down at him. "Meat. Rare."

Sighing, Alexander turned back to the terrified waiter. "Just get it, the cheapest raw meat you have. Two menus while you're at it."

Nodding his head frantically, the man sprinted back inside, relieved to be away from this insane pirate. Cain rubbed his short hair as he stared at the buildings around them. "This is a nice little town. Ordered and neat, just the way I like it. Could use some life in it though. Looks like it's been visited by the plague."

"What were the bandit cities like?" Alexander asked, partially to keep the conversation going and partially for his own curiosity. "Captain said they were one of the wonders of this archipelago."

"Did you not see one? Oh, you missed out big time." Cain looked positively thrilled as he began to describe his homeland. "The city you were close to, the capitol where Lord Zematsal resides, is gigantic, even by my standards. Everything is carved out of the living rock so it has this real earthy feel, like we're as much a part of the mountain as the stones are. Everything is a sort of reddish-brown, which is calming compared to the icy snow covering Winter Isle most of the year. You got there as the seasons were changing, so you were lucky. It drops so far below zero that even our furnaces barely keep the mountain warm."

"And I bet there's never a still moment," Alexander guessed.

"That's not true," the bandit reflected. "There's a pretty firm curfew, but that's mostly out of consideration than anything else. After eleven, most of the city lights go out, but its still light enough for children to have parties and such. After one, everyone's supposed to be indoors. Then at five, that twilight happens again, then the city comes truly alive at seven. It's a really nice system and nobody ever complains."

"Nobody?" Damien cut in, eyeing the waiter hastily hand his two companions menus and jot down their choices on a pad of paper. "Back 'ome, we were ne'er in bed a' tha' time. We 'ated it when our fuckin' paren's called us in."

Cain shrugged. "Winter Isle bandits abide by a very strict living code designed to maximize our military efficiency and contentedness. There were social tiers, but they were not too strict. Also, every bandit, male or female, was required to enroll in the military by age eighteen, so any person inside or around that island was trained to defend themselves from attacks."

"By age eighteen," Alexander repeated. "I take it you did it earlier than that. When did you enroll?"

"Tenth birthday," Cain said proudly. "And my father began training me since I could walk. What about you, Damien? How did you develop such amazing skill?"

The navigator stared intensely out into space. "We grew up wi' pirates. Figh'in' was 'ow we bonded."

Alexander gave a small smile. "Every time one of our favorite crews made land again, we would show them what we had learned. Damien had his fighting moves and I my music. Remember that time when Henry nearly decapitated Captain Kilroy with his acrobatics?"

"Captain Kilroy?" Cain asked. "As in, Captain 'Skullcracker' Kilroy James?"

"Yes," Alexander confirmed, not put off by his childhood friend's gruesome nickname. "Contrary to what you might believe, he was actually a very good man. His epithet derived from the rather brutal revenge he exacted on an underground organization that kidnapped his first mate and boatswain. But it took a lot to drive him to that point. Around us, he was always doing little magic tricks and games."

The bandit seemed to have trouble grasping this concept. "Skullcracker James was one of the most feared pirates in West Blue. He had a bounty in the high tens of millions! They only caught him when…"

Alexander's grin darkened slightly. "When?"

"When they captured one of his crewmembers," Cain recalled quietly.

"Exactly." Alexander nodded his thanks to the waiter and tucked his napkin into his collar as he prepared to eat. "And bounties aren't true reflections of a pirate's worth. Granted, they do correlate for the most part. The Pirate Kings' final bounties were close to one billion when they died and they were the strongest men on land and sea. But there have been cases where bounties have been placed simply because the person is deemed a threat to the World Government, never mind society. Conversely, there have been pirates who have received abysmally low bounties despite their power and influence."

Cain frowned at this. "Like who?"

The musician shrugged. "None come immediately to mind." He began cutting up his steak. "I bet Captain's going to get a bounty soon, though. She's been pissing off the World Government for quite some time now."

"So Winter Isle was not the first time she openly defied some authority and slipped from their fingers," Cain assumed.

Damien's roaring laughter interrupted them. "She fucked up tha' Marine base where we used ta live, stole credit fer killin' tha' cocksucker on Summer, escaped from tha' royal fuckin' asswipe on Spring, beat the shit outta th' mercs from Fall and escaped yer pigfuckin' king on Winter."

"Add that to the fact that she's definitely dabbled in criminal organizations in the past and you've got a woman with quite a résumé," Alexander concluded. "She is way past the amount of strikes allotted to her, which is none, and I'm surprised she doesn't have money on her head yet."

"An' I'm nex'," Damien grumbled, chewing a bone to splinters. "Imma be th' bes' figh'er in the world an' everyone needs ta know it."

"The best fighter?" Cain repeated.

"O' course. 'T's me dream. Tha' an' t' fuck up th' Fleet Admiral."

"The Fleet Admiral?" came the surprised response.

The bandit winced as Damien slugged his side. "Th' fuck are ya, a busted fuckin' snail? 'E's in charge o' the 'ole Marine bunch."

"The Marine's can't be that bad," Cain reasoned. "What's the worst they could have done?

Both pirates froze at this. Alexander glanced up at Damien, who was obviously too wrapped up in his own little world to look back. Cain, sensing that he had begun treading on forbidden ground, chose to remain silent over trying to correct his mistake. Knocking aside what remained of his meal, Damien climbed to his feet, his anger ignited. "Wha' did they do?" he raged, flames leaking from his mouth. "'Ere's wha' they did!"

"Damien, no!" Alexander shouted, but it was too late.

The navigator kicked his way through the wall of the house next to the restaurant and drew his head back. With a bellow of "Diavolo Drago," he sent a large fireball flying through the hallway, instantly setting the walls alight. Surprised screaming filled the rooms as the inhabitants realized the sudden attack. Damien flicked out his claws and dragged them through the wall, causing debris to rain down and plug up the opening. To finish his job, he spat another glob of fire at the door, sealing off their only other exit.

"Tha's wha' they did," he snarled, turning away from the burning structure.

"Damn it, Damien!" Alexander shouted, rushing up to the building. "Cain, get me on the roof!"

"You'll catch fire!" Cain protested.

"Do it!"

The bandit immediately complied, easily tossing Alexander onto the two-story building. He then turned his attention towards Damien, gently rotating the berserker about so they faced each other. "That was unnecessary."

"Fuck off," Damien snapped, slapping the bandit's hand away. "I don' fuckin' care 'bout those cunts in there."

"But somebody does." The two men whirled around to face the newcomer. He was flanked on either side by a handful of guards, all pointing their spears directly at Damien. "You are under arrest for arson and by the sounds of it, murder. Get that fire brigade ov-"

He fell silent as the roof dissolved into a rush of water. Steam hissed out of the charred windows as the liquid coursed through the house, extinguishing the smaller flames and shrinking the larger ones. The guards watched in shock as a loud wave of sound spread the fire more thinly across the house, where the flames tried in vain to burn the wet wood. What remained of the blaze could be easily beaten out, which the relieved inhabitants proceeded to do with gusto.

"What was that?" the policeman asked.

Alexander splashed into view, standing at the top of a partially demolished wall. Water continued to flow around his dress pants in small waterfalls, further soaking his clothes. Sunlight glinted off his trumpet as glasses as he ran his gloved hand through his hair, shedding excess water. He hopped off of the wall and landed in a puddle of mud, crouching to lessen the impact.

"And who are you?"

The musician stood up straight, loosening his tie as he looked up at the guard. "I am Alexander-"

"Let me see your papers," came the abrupt command.

Alexander frowned. "You're kidding me, right? I just saved the lives of those people and you want to know if I have the proper authorization?"

"You saved them from your friend here," the guard clarified.

The pirate ripped the sodden papers out from inside his jacket and handed them over. The guard's eyes flicked up and down as he tried to simultaneously read the document and watch the short man before him. Satisfied, he gingerly handed them back to the alchemist and stood at attention. "We still need to bring… Damien in."

"All righ'."

Alexander opened his mouth, then his eyes widened and he turned to his friend. "Excuse me?"

Damien shrugged. "'M done eatin'. Why no'?"

"You are willing to be arrested and imprisoned indefinitely." Alexander still couldn't believe it.

"So?"

"Hold out your hands," the policeman commanded.

The navigator's head snapped around and he bared his teeth. "No' possible."

"He can't move his left arm," Alexander explained, still trying to figure out what his crewmate was doing.

"And how do I know that?" the guard asked.

Damien grabbed his armored glove with his right hand and lifted his left arm. "See this fuckin' scar? Tha' 'orsefuckin' cumguzzler did tha' t' me!"

The policeman frowned. "I've seen more serious injuries that don't limit mobility."

With a snarl of anger, Damien spun around, sending his left arm flying about. The guard didn't make a sound as the armored fist smashed into the side of his head, instantly knocking him unconscious. "Don' fuck wit' me. I said I'd go in an' tha's wha' I'll do. Now lead the fuckin' way or yeh'll join this 'ere shit-fer-brains fer a dirtnap."

The guards scrambled to do as he ordered. In no time he was surrounded by deadly blades all pointed directly at his neck. He began to walk off, his retinue dutifully keeping pace around him. Alexander shook his head in amazement, water droplets flying off.

"I never expected that," Cain mumbled.

"Me neither," Alexander sighed. "Come on. Let's go get those supplies."

"What about Damien?"

Alexander deposited enough money to pay for the food and turned away. "He can handle himself."

"Very well," the bandit boomed, rearing up to his full height. "Stay close to me, though."

"And why is that?" Alexander asked with a frown

Adjusting his leather vest, Cain began slowly lumbering away from the area. "We are being watched."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Water dripped from the moss clinging to the grimy stone arches. Thin, slanted rays of sun were the only source of illumination in the caverns. Large square pillars of stone stretched up from the ground, supporting the buildings high above them. Rivers of sludge slowly oozed along angular channels, bubbles rising along the thick surface. All varieties of life scurried along the stone floor and flitted around near the ceiling. The entire place smelled faintly of decay.

Soon, the sound of creaking wheels and low chatter began to combine with the screeching and squeaking of the animals. A dim light began to grow in the distance, bouncing slightly as it came. The light eventually grew to become a lamp, borne on a stick attached to a grimy little cart. The cart slowly trundled along, stopping near a thick bridge. The person pushing the cart slowly ambled through a shaft of light, revealing himself to be a frail old man. He stared calmly down at the river, his thick brows hiding his eyes.

Another man walked into the sunlight, this one a much younger and fitter man. Receiving a nod of assent from his older counterpart, he crouched by the river and stuck his hand beneath the sludge. After rummaging around for a while, he stopped and stood up, bringing up a grimy shape from the depths.

"Dead," he told the old man. Without expressing any emotion, the elder walked back to the cart and began pushing it again. The younger man dumped the body onto the cart, checking to make sure it was secure. They began ambling along, scanning for more corpses to collect.

"That's five this run," he continued conversationally. "The police are getting out of hand again, especially with the war going on in R. Olympus. I wonder when it's going to wind down. These things never last, you know."

The old man remained silent. The only sounds he made were the muffled _thumps_ his soles made as they hit the dirty stone floor. He seemed content to merely do his duty as efficiently as possible. His rheumy eyes peered through the darkness as he scanned for another body. They were nearing the residential district, which was almost always corpse-free. Citizens of Reichmann Island knew better than to break too many rules.

"I hear General Taylor is trying to make one last stand," the young man said. "He's been in this rebellion from the beginning and he doesn't seem like he wants to give up. I heard he's going to lead the final assault himself. I don't see what he's getting at myself, but then again, we gravekeepers have our own code to abide to. I really miss being in open sunlight though, but it's not a bad trade-off in-"

"Come out, little one," the old man rasped. "I know you're there."

His companion frowned at this. His eyes were well-adjusted to the dim caverns, but he couldn't see anybody. Still, he knew better than to question his elder. The old gravekeeper never acted foolishly or irrationally. Much to his surprise, a small figure dropped down from the ceiling, landing at the edge of the lamplight. He couldn't make out any other details, so he decided to leave this newcomer to the old man.

"Who are you?" the elder breathed, his eyes straining to make out the person.

"My name is not important." The young man shivered. He had never before heard a voice so cold, so devoid of emotion. He instinctively retreated a pace, putting a little bit more room between himself and the newcomer. "I have come at the request of my captain. She is most keen to speak with you."

"Oh?" The old man gave a slight cough to clear his throat. "And what might she have to say to me?"

A hand came up into the lamplight, small and childlike. Painted black fingernails gently removed the receiver of the Baby Den-Den Mushi and rested it beside the snail. Waking from its usual state of sleep, the mechanized invertebrate raised its eyestalks towards the old man and began to speak. "Old man Kai? Are you there?"

The gravekeeper gave a toothy grin. "Now there's a voice I haven't heard in a fair stretch of time. How has life been treating you, my dear?"

"Never better, my old friend," the snail responded in a bold feminine voice. "I suppose you're aware of my circumstances?"

"I am indeed," Kai assured her. "It's a shame what happened to you, but I suppose you believe it worth the consequences. I would so like to meet the girl you gave up your life for. But I suppose there's no chance of that, is there. That family was always so tough to deal with."

The snail burst out into laughter. "You would never believe what happened to her, not in a million years."

"Try me," the old man challenged.

The Baby Den-Den Mushi craned its eyes around, focusing on its carrier. Kai frowned, initially confused by this action. Then, realization stuck like a lightning bolt and his eyes shot wide open. He joined in with the snail's laughter, leaning against his cart for support. The young gravekeeper was slightly miffed. Who was this person to intrude upon this territory nigh on sacred to his people and interact like old friends? "Wait, gramps, who is this guy and who's on the other end of that snail?"

"And who are you?" the snail asked, focusing on him. "I don't recognize your voice."

"He's one of my apprentices, Ned," the old man explained. "As for the person on the other end of the snail-"

"I am Captain Cassandra, head of the Black Glove Pirates," the Baby Den-Den Mushi said proudly. "Formerly Cassandra Negras, daughter of Eirwyn Negras, head of the Black Glove Assassins."

Ned blanched at this, retreating even father. Part of the duties of the gravekeepers were to interact with the various assassin groups passing through Reichmann Island. He himself had only met three no-name assassins from South Blue looking for work, but he knew of the most powerful families in the world. Everyone older than he had been pressing the importance and strength of these families and of all of them, the Negras' were reputed to be the best of the best. "So you're part of those people?" he managed at last. "The assassins?" Starting, he pointed a finger accusingly of the person carrying the transponder. "And you, you're one of them too?"

"Like my captain, I was an assassin," came the emotionless reply.

"But that's all in the past," Snail-Cassandra interrupted. "But what I need is present information. Treat me like I was before, Kai, as if I were still a Negras. What should I know about this island that would be relevant to my interests?"

"On the militaristic front, the Reichmanns are currently at odds with a good number of Summer Isle pirates for a variety of reasons. The most important ones are the usual: gold, women, infamy. But the pirates have made some rather successful raids on some of Reichmann Island's offshore colonies, either plundering, razing or both. The Reichmann navy is almost completely occupied with that, which is why you weren't intercepted before your arrival here. Still, sailing in under a pirate flag was a risky move. But judging by the fact that we're having this conversation, you're okay for now.

"The other such event is quite unusual. A man by the name of Taylor Monchstein is leading a rebellion against the Reichmanns in R. Olympus. He is a very religious and cautious man, giving his troops names derived from holy texts to protect their anonymity. He initially began with a full-scale army of his own, but the Reichmanns had some unexpected government experiments to aid their army. General Taylor, as he likes to be called, was then reduced to buying mercenaries, cooks, doctors, weaponsmiths, any person he could find to help him in his efforts. But his supplies are wearing thin and his resources are almost exhausted. I wouldn't be surprised if this most recent attack of his is truly the last stand."

He paused to allow Cassandra to process the information given. "Continue," she said at last.

"From an economic standpoint, the Reichmanns are doing as well as ever. Their taxes have been raised to almost ninety percent in some cases, so their coffers are full. They have municipalized the educational sector in R. Canis, R. Vark and R. Work, which leaves only fifteen districts without it. Before you say anything, it is strange that they are moving so slowly on the education in some areas, even relinquishing power, but you know how it is. They're not complete tyrants. Anyway, natural resources are still plentiful, so no problem there.

"Adali Reichmann just turned fifteen, which doesn't bode well for the rest of us. For another main member to reach adulthood is dangerous. After General Taylor gets put down and the Summer Isle pirates driven off, there's going to be some internal dispute for control of R. Olympus. Klaus Reichmann passed away in R. Work, so the situation can't turn out too badly.

"Last but not least," he whispered, leaning down towards the snail. "A couple assassins have passed through here in the past month or so. Two members of the Bast family visited R. Know a few weeks ago. I might be mistaken, but I think they were Camille and Jennifer Bast. Do you know of them?"

"We met Jennifer on Winter Isle," Snail-Cassandra informed him. "There was no sign of Camille, but we were only there for a brief period of time. Thank you very much, Kai, for the information. My associate has a fair amount of money-"

"For you, my dear, it is free," Kai said, silencing Ned with a sharp look. "Keep an eye out for any interesting activity and report it to me. I'll consider that payment."

The Baby Den-Den Mushi gave a wide smile. "You're a good man, Kai. I hope to see you in person soon."

Ned waited for the snail to close its eyes before whirling around to face the old gravekeeper. "What was that, gramps? We never offer our services for free, you know that! What could that-"

He stiffened as a sharp edge pressed against his throat, cutting off his words. "Do not speak badly of her," the former assassin droned. "You will not live to see another day."

The young man nodded frantically, trying not to hit the deadly blade. Much to his surprise, the small person seemed to dematerialize, vanishing into the shadows in the blink of an eye. He let out a slow breath and slumped against the cart. "You should not agitate her," Kai said breathily. "She is among are the most dangerous people I have ever met. Her threat was not an idle one; she could easily kill you before you could even think of defending yourself."

"So I'm supposed to just live with this indignity?" Ned protested. "None of those other visitors treated us like that?"

"None of those other visitors endured what she had to," Kai stated. "I will speak no more on this matter. We have duties to attend to."

Ned huffed and began walking alongside the cart again. Being a gravekeeper was a unique job. He just hoped it wouldn't get him killed one day.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra leaned back on her bed, staring long and hard at the tiny snail on the windowsill. She was long past being an assassin, but some habits were difficult to kill. She hated visiting an island without knowing about events that could embroil her or her crew. This method of gathering information was all well and good in West Blue; she was well known throughout the islands and had visited most of them at least once. But in the Grand Line, she would join her crew as being a complete stranger to every island they visited. She didn't even know where or how to access her usual flow information.

Fortunately, she was still no stranger to pressing locals for their knowledge of their home island. She was not above threatening them if she believed they were lying to her either. She wouldn't get detailed information like she did in West Blue, but that shouldn't be a problem. Either way, it was useless to think about it now. A fleet of pirate ships that wouldn't be adverse to blowing her ship out of the waters at the slightest provocation was somewhere in their vicinity. The Reichmanns were a whimsical lot and could, at any moment, blow the _Howling Knave_ up anyway, simply for their own amusement.

And, to top it all off, the Baby Den-Den Mushi began to burble again. Sighing, she reached over and plucked the received from its shell. "What is it, Alexander?"

The snail looked at her with surprise. "How did you know it was me?"

"Raven just called me and Damien's has instructions not to bother me unless something bad is happening to him," Cassandra explained. "Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"

"Funnily enough, Damien has been arrested," Snail-Alexander told her.

The pirate captain sighed and pushed her hat back a bit. "How many men did he kill?"

"None, actually," the mollusk said. "Neither during the act that got him arrested nor during the arrest itself."

"Nothing he does surprises me any more." Cassandra rubbed her eyes. "We'll pick him up later; just ignore him for now. Is there anything else you want to tell me?"

"That's basically all for now," came the reply, before the eyestalks lowered slightly and the snail's voice turned to a hushed whisper. "Though Cain says we're being watched."

Cassandra frowned at this. "Do you trust him?"

"I do."

"Good," she murmured. "He was and will be the bodyguard for Prince Zematsal, so if he thinks you're being watched, I see no reason to doubt his suspicions. Contact me immediately if anything else arises."

"Will do, Captain," the Baby Den-Den Mushi said. "Alexander out."

No sooner had the mechanized snail gone back to sleep than the door to the women's quarters banged open. "Captain! Captain! Captain!" Lyn called loudly.

"I'm right here, you know," Cassandra stated. "What is it?"

"I finished recarving our nakama's faces into the galley!" the first mate announced.

"I'm thrilled."

Lyn bounced onto her captain's bed, nearly catapulting the other woman to the floor. "I'm not done, Captain! There's something else!"

"And what might that be?" Cassandra exhaled, releasing her vise grip on the bedpost. "We're out of paint again? Maybe you want to play another game of cards?"

The artist shook her colored bangs, grinning broadly. "There are people boarding the ship!"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow as she got to her feet. "Well then," she said dangerously, picking up her old pistols. "I can't just let them waltz in here without greeting them properly, can I?"

* * *

See you next time to find out who's watching Alexander and Cain. I might even throw in the group boarding the _Knave_ if I feel like it


	46. Recruitment

Summer's almost here, so why not throw down a few chapters to commemorate?  


* * *

The pirate captain kicked open the door and walked outside, scanning the deck for the intruders Lyn had mentioned. Sure enough, a small band of people was climbing over the railing, pausing to help others onto the ship. She cleared her throat loudly and cocked her pistols, the ominous clicking causing the boarders to freeze with fear. "Now I'm only going to say this once," she said firmly. "Put your hands on your heads, turn slowly around and state who you are and what you're doing on my ship."

The seven people did as she commanded, making no sudden moves or sounds. "I am called Dove," the woman in front stated. "I will be speaking for my comrades."

"Dove is such a pretty name!" Lyn chirped, sitting on the railing beside her captain.

Cassandra cut her off. "Does it have any religious significance?"

The woman looked surprised at this. "How did you know?"

"I have my sources," Cassandra informed her. "Dove, come inside the galley with me. Lyn, stay out here and watch the others." She paused, then leaned in closer to her crewmember's ear. "They're extremely dangerous aliens from space. We won't be able to study them if even a single one gets away or does something funny."

Lyn's head bobbed up and down. Her cyan eyes fell upon the intruders and she whispered, "Got it, Captain. I'll keep them until Raven gets back."

Cassandra clapped her first mate on the back and descended to the main deck, gesturing for the other leader to follow her. After they both entered the galley, she closed the door behind them and pointed at a chair near the table. "Sit."

Dove did as she was told. "You are Black Glove Cassandra, right?"

"I am," the sniper said, seeing no reason to lie. "And you are an envoy sent by General Taylor."

"It seems like we both have ways of acquiring information," Dove muttered. "We have intercepted messages involving potential threats in the area and your name came up quite a few times. My superior is wondering if you'd be interested in helping us."

Cassandra frowned. "I am a pirate wanted by most of West Blue and you're asking me if I want to graciously lend my hand to some rebellion that has no effect on me or my friend."

The rebel squirmed in her seat. "Well, yes."

"Convince me," Cassandra offered after a moment. "What can I gain from this?"

"We have money," Dove began, seizing the lifeline she had been given. "We will pay you for your troubles. Do you have any other crewmembers or are you two the only ones?"

_And it always comes down to this_. "Three others. That's all."

"We are a band of rebels and if we win this rebellion, there are more than a few mercenaries who would be looking for more work. Instead of keeping them ourselves, we would allow you to select those that you can both afford, which you should be able to do with the salary we give you, and those you deem worthy to join you."

Cassandra leaned back on her seat and pondered this. She herself didn't particularly want to engage in yet more turmoil, especially when it had nothing to do with her, and she doubted that she would find any mercenaries that she would let into her crew. However, she could not ignore the desires of her own crewmembers. Lyn would be all for helping people overthrow such a strictly-governed society. There would be plenty of strong opponents for Damien to clash with. Raven and Alexander probably didn't care either way, but would not be opposed to the idea. Additionally, the money stockpile she had received from various family members was running low and piracy was not a cheap business…

She got up and walked over to the porthole, staring out across the piers. "Let's say that I was interested. How much would we get?"

"The rates are very fair," Dove said excitedly, jumping up and running over to the sniper. "For a group of two, you get 7,500,000 Beli apiece, which should cover the docking charge and the passports."

"For a group of two," Cassandra repeated. "Would the rates change if I had more people?"

"General Taylor wishes to gather together bands of people who work well together," Dove explained. "The rates decrease slightly up to ten members, who each get 6,250,000 apiece. This means that organizations get more money while lone wolves aren't excluded either."

_Now that's interesting_. "That's more than a fair deal," Cassandra agreed. "Is there a catch?"

"You have to come to the rebel base below R. Olympus, the mountain in the center of the island," Dove elaborated. "We will accommodate you as best we can, but you won't get paid until the rebellion is over."

Cassandra exhaled deeply. "That's quite a catch. But though I am low funds, I will not make this decision alone. Lyn!" she shouted, strolling outside. "What say you to helping some rebels?"

"Awesome!" Lyn cheered, bounding over to embrace her captain. "I've always wanted to do that!"

"Figured as much," she muttered, before doing a swift count of the other rebels. "Lyn, I told you to watch over them."

"I did!" the first mate protested. "See? They're right there!"

Cassandra cocked her pistol again and pointed it right at Dove's head. "Where is the seventh one?" she asked softly. "Don't lie to me."

"I-I believe he went to report back to General Taylor," Dove stammered. "He means no harm, I swear!"

The pirate captain was seriously tempted to inflict bodily harm upon the rebel, but the presence of her first mate kept her in check. "Whatever. How are we getting to R. Olympus?"

"Underground tram," Dove replied, obviously thankful for avoiding being killed. "We will lead you there now, if you like."

"And what will become of my ship?" Cassandra inquired. "I obviously can't leave her unguarded."

"We will find someone to watch over her," Dove assured her. "Now please, let us depart."

"Come, Lyn," the sniper said at last. "Let's get our stuff."

"But Captain!" Lyn whined, moving closer so she could lower her voice to a whisper. "What about the aliens?"

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "I've made a deal with them. They'll patiently wait for us."

Lyn accepted this explanation and leapt up the stairs into the women's quarters. Cassandra followed behind her, carefully shutting the door behind her. "Lyn, only get your rapier and beads."

The artist frowned unhappily. "But what about my painting and-"

A sharp look from Cassandra cut her off. The sniper was about to snap angrily at her, but slowly reigned her temper in. "Please just… do as I say. I'll see if I can get some supplies when we're in the rebel base."

"Oh…" Lyn looked so crestfallen that Cassandra couldn't help but feel bad. She was about to say something else when the first mate's face lit up like the sun. "So we get to see a secret rebel base? Amazing!"

Cassandra reached around and fastened her pistol belt, holstering her first pair of pistols. Pushing her bed pillows aside, she picked up her ancestral pistols and tucked them in the slots on her belt as well. Reaching up, she caught the rifle strap Lyn threw over and tossed it over her shoulder. She crouched down and stretched her arm underneath her bed, grabbing her rifle.

"Did I ever tell you how big that gun is?" Lyn asked, checking out her figure in the mirror. "It's freaking huge."

"In some cases, bigger is better." Cassandra attached the weapon to the strap and adjusted it, feeling its comforting weight on her back. "Did you do something with my knives?"

"Raven put them over there."

She followed the artist's finger over to the desk beside her bed. "What was she doing with them?"

"She said you had a high chance of flailing about in your sleep and stabbing yourself," Lyn explained. "I don't know what she's talking about. Whenever I come in off of watch, you're always sleeping like the dead. Never like it when I try to wake you up, though."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow as she began sheathing her weapons. "You try to wake me up?"

"First time I tried, you nearly took my head off," Lyn said completely normally, as if describing the weather. "After that, I just learn how to dodge until you actually wake up."

"Hmm," Cassandra hummed. "That means I'm getting slower. I used to be so sensitive I'd wake up while I was attacking. I just thought I'd stopped doing it before I met you."

"Yeah, yeah," Lyn dismissed, resuming her studying. "What do you think, Captain? Hair behind shoulders or in front?"

"Pick one." The pirate joined her friend before the mirror, admiring the arms covering her form.

The first mate grabbed her by the shoulder, bringing her into a one-armed hug. "You look awesome, Captain! You look like you could take on a whole army!"

"And you a beach resort," Cassandra shot back. "Are you seriously going only in that?"

Lyn looked down at her bikini and shorts. "Lighten up, Captain. Anyway, I got my stuff, so can we go see the rebel base?"

"In a moment." Cassandra unhooked the received from the snail on her shoulder and brought it to her mouth. "I need to talk to Alexander first."

The Baby Den-Den Mushi began burbling as it attempted to contact its counterpart with the musician. After a short while, the snail came to life and began speaking in a low voice. "Is it you, Cassandra?"

"I'm here, Alexander," she assured him, noting the careful use of her name rather than her usual title. "Listen, as it turns out, we're going to be helping some rebels for a while."

"I know."

Cassandra frowned. "And how do you know that? I didn't leave my BDDM on…"

"I know, because we've just received a similar offer," the snail said.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

_Earlier than that_…

Alexander reached up and plucked an apple from the tree, testing its weight and firmness. As oppressive as the Reichmanns were, they weren't completely heartless. Fresh produce was rare to come by on some islands, but the orchard that apparently doubled as a market was expansive and varied. He had been able to accumulate at least enough food to last them until the first island in the Grand Line, which was no mean feat. Satisfied with the fruit, he glanced behind him at the mule provided to haul his groceries. No matter how hard he pushed it, it only moved at the same lethargic pace. He supposed it helped keep him from stealing the groceries and the iron fence in the distance theoretically kept him from escaping that way with only an armful.

He allowed himself a wry chuckle at this. They could pour a metal wall thick enough to stop Cain from breaking through, but making plates thick enough to keep him from escaping was significantly harder. They would have to put seastone in it to keep him out, but that was inordinately more expensive. A couple Logia fruits might be able to get through…

He contemplated this as he browsed the rows of cabbage, gently guiding his mule around another shopper. There were few things he loved more than anything that had to do with pirates. The sheer number of corsairs roaming the seas, regardless of what his Captain might think, meant that he was more likely to meet one of them with a Devil Fruit than a government official or monarch of some island. He knew that a good chunk of them would rather try to obliterate him with the aforesaid powers, but there had to be some who would be willing to talk about being a Fruit user.

"Let's see," he said to himself. "Fruits, vegetables, red and white-" He was interrupted by frantic clucking. "White meat, herbs, spices, sauces… All relatively non-perishable. Cain should be getting the wood, metal, nails and tools, Raven the information, which means… I'm done."

He turned the mule around and began ambling towards the exit, still scanning the branches for any particular fruit he had forgotten and the ground for anything else. He sighed as he caught sight of the dirt covering his shoes and pants, but he really had only himself to blame. He felt most comfortable in such clothing, just as his friends had their own customary styles.

Bringing his trumpet to his lips, he began composing another tune, attracting the attention of some nearby shoppers. He resolutely ignored them, performing for his own benefit before theirs. He was nearly knocked over as the mule bumped into him, stumbling to regain his balance. Surprised, he turned to see that the animal's lethargy had been replaced with curiosity. He played a few more notes, grinning as he watched its ears perk up and its breath come in fierce snorts.

"Music is life," he told the mule happily. "And life is music." He flexed his fingers and began marching forward, playing a strong military tune as he went. It had the desired effect: the mule picked up its pace, no longer moseying along but striding energetically. He began nodding his head as he played, adding more energy to the tune. If he could both smile and play simultaneously, he would have. All around him, people were turning and staring openly. Instead of ignoring them this time, he bowed to each one as he passed, noting their expressions of shock.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask to see your-" Without skipping a beat, he withdrew his passport and showed it to the guard, who he could have sworn had popped straight out of the ground. Seeing the piece of paper reminded him that the islanders probably weren't accustomed to hearing melodies such as his. But there was nothing keeping him from freely giving it to them if he had the opportunity to do so. After all, they were about to go to the Grand Line! His excitement was reflected in his music and he played more vibrantly than before.

As he resumed strutting towards the exit, he noticed that the guard was accompanying him. He noticed that the man was doing his best to appear attentive to his surroundings, but was also listening intently to the music being played. His heart went out to the policeman; after all, jobs had to be performed and those doing them didn't necessarily enjoy doing what they did.

His mind instantly went to the Marines and he began playing more somberly. While it was true that they razed almost everything he loved to the ground, the same logic applied to them as well. This was why he desired to talk to the Fleet Admiral instead of outright engaging him in combat. Besides, a man of that caliber was surely strong enough to repel any attack from some no-name rookie such as himself. But he would meet the man; there was no debating that point. He would do anything to just see why the Marines did what they did and as luck would have it, Marineford stood proud and tall near the middle of the Grand Line. He couldn't deny that he was using his captain to travel as much as she was using him, but he felt no resentment or conflict. Afterwards, he would continue traveling with her until she disbanded the pirates. Nothing short of that would stop him.

He felt relief rising in his breast as he turned the corner and arrived at the check-out point. Rather than interrupt his playing, the guard began unloading the groceries from the mule. Bowing gratefully, Alexander worked to complete his improvised piece as quickly and gracefully as possible. Ideally, he would finish as the police gave the last of his supplies to the grocer, but he would be fine with a few extra measures before or after.

What he didn't expect at all was something landing heavily behind him, blocking out the midday sun. His first instinct was Damien, who had to be dealt with instantly, music ended or not. But before he could turn around, he was grabbed around the waist and was just as quickly brought into the air. He was about to shout loudly when he realized that he was not wrapped in a grip of iron, but of stony muscles.

"Cain?" he asked in surprised. "What are you doing?"

"You can't buy food here," the bandit mumbled as he leapt off of another building.

Alexander began protesting loudly. "And why not? Captain said to buy food and that's what I'm doing. Put me down!"

"They're after us," Cain boomed, glancing around. "We can't stop here."

"Why the hell not? We have our papers!"

"Alexander!" The musician paused at the volume of his voice. "We cannot stay here!"

"And where do you propose to run to?" Alexander snapped, no stranger to loud arguments. "I will petrify you before you think of going back to the ship in this manner! We want to avoid bringing undue attention to Captain."

Cain touched down with a mighty crash, his boots and right hand making large indents in the street. Digging his toes in, he pushed off hard, speeding forward without departing from the ground. His boots churned the cobblestones into gravel as he dashed faster than a speeding bullet. He wove through the pedestrians with practiced ease, occasionally corkscrewing to avoid bulling through them.

"I thought bandits could only jump," Alexander managed, admiring how little Cain was jostling him despite his powerful run.

"Every muscle is trained to its maximum potential," Cain replied. "And legs are not only used for jumping. But hang on tight, because I do have to jump now!"

With one explosive movement, he soared into the air, leather vest flapping in the wind. Alexander glanced down and was promptly seized by vertigo as he saw the chasm they were crossing. Cain landed surprisingly softly in the fields, raising only small clouds of dirt despite the height he had fallen. The portly musician extracted himself and tumbled gracelessly to the ground, groaning as he lay on the grass.

"This is a place more suited for combat," Cain mumbled, casting his eyes about. "We will wait here for the guards."

"Just wait a damn second!" Alexander shouted as he rose to his feet. "What the hell was that all about? You could have waited for me to buy the food and grabbed that as well!"

The massive bandit shook his head. "Everything the Reichmanns grow, at least in the outer cities, is drugged."

"Drugged," Alexander repeated, his anger diminishing. "What do you mean, drugged?"

"Something so powerful it turns everyone into addicts after just one dose. It's a scam to keep natives on the island and outsiders returning," Cain explained. "Maybe Cassandra anticipated untainted food, but the point remains that we can't get supplies here. Styrkr Smida!"

Alexander watched in amazement as the bandit single-handedly ripped a nearby tree out of the ground. His vest flew open with the sudden movement, revealing row upon row of gleaming tools. Cain threw the tree into the air and plucked a handful of tools from either side of his vest, holding them between his finers. In a series of moves that the pirate couldn't see, he somehow reduced the entire tree to a massive hammer, smoothly reholstering his tools and catching the newly-created weapon.

"That… was… amazing," he breathed. "I wish knew what you just did."

"All Winter Isle bandits can make their own arms," Cain boomed, eyeing the group of guards racing towards them. "Some can even do it with their bare hands. Hold steady, Alexander, here they come!"

The musician got into a ready position, then paused and glanced upwards. "Give me that!"

"I'm pretty sure you can't lift this," Cain responded.

"Then just put it in front of me!" Despite his confusion, the enormous bodyguard did as he was instructed. Alexander planted his free hand on the hammer, concentrating as hard as he could.

"What are you doing? They're almost here!"

"Acier Magie!" the alchemist said at last. Cain whistled as he hoisted the massive metal hammer, testing its weight and feel. Grinning broadly, Alexander turned towards the approaching policemen, fingering his trumpet in anticipation. If these men were good fighters, he estimated they would last around ten seconds. If they were great, maybe a minute. He felt completely safe in Cain's presence; the Winter Isle native could go toe-to-toe with Damien for at least a minute, after all. Any man that strong could handle this.

"There they are, men!" the leader shouted, racing across the bridge that spanned the massive gorge. "Don't let them escape!"

"Trompette Sonnerie!"

"Asja!"

The policemen let out loud cries as they were blasted head over heels, scattering like tenpins across the broad bridge. Those who had managed to avoid the soundwave were swatted aside with one smooth movement. Alexander was tempted to add another attack, but Cain seemed to have it covered. He fell upon the men like a hurricane, his metal hammer crushing bones and sending men flying. Each time he slammed his weapon down, the ground trembled as if shaken by a massive earthquake. But despite his size, he was surprisingly agile, avoiding largely telegraphed moves with ease.

"Over to your left!" Alexander called, making sure to stay way out to the side.

Cain turned and dealt the man a sharp backhand, spinning him about like a top. Digging in his combat boots, he smashed his hammer against the ground with enough force to snap the metal handle in two. The resulting tremor shook the earth with such ferocity that nobody could remain standing. People cried out as the ripples bounced them about, crashing them painfully against each other.

Only the leader managed to avoid injuring himself, crouching on the ground to reduce the shocks he received. After the ground stopped shaking, leaving behind deep cracks and churned dirt, he got to his feet, staring up at the massive bandit. "You are under arrest for assaulting several officers, disturbing the piece and-"

"Jafnadr!" Cain shouted, hurling the broken handle at the man.

The Reichmann islander grabbed the projectile out of midair, wringing out his hand immediately afterwards. "Since you refuse to come in peacefully, you leave us no choice but to apprehend you forcibly."

"You have no more men!" Alexander reminded him, walking up to his companion. "How do you expect to do that?"

"Yes, Mister Policeman," came a rough snarl. "How d'you expect to do that?"

Before he could turn around, a hand came over his mouth, silencing any sounds he might have made. Another hand injected something into his neck, trembling slightly as it did. The pirate and the bandit watched as he collapsed to the ragged road, revealing a much smaller man behind him.

"I saw how you stood up to 'em," the newcomer continued, pocketing the empty syringe. "Not bad at all." He took a step forward, only to stop as Alexander raised his trumpet and Cain his fists. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm not here to fight, see? I'm here to offer you a deal."

"We don't make deals with strangers," Cain thundered, rearing up to his full height.

The man took a few more steps backwards. "Listen, I know you're not doing too well with the popo and I couldn't help but hear you need some food."

"You're the one who was watching us." The bandit made it perfectly clear that it was not a question.

"Okay, yeah, I followed you," he admitted, nodding from side to side. "But only after your friend set that building on fire. I was curious, so I watched you, see? You lost me for a while there, but you left a pretty easy trail to follow."

"That was for the guards, not for you," Cain rumbled. "What is this deal you have?"

Seeing that Cain was not about to flatten him, the newcomer came forward once more. "You see all this stuff, this quote unquote paradise? It's a lie. You found out about the food, but that's not the half of it. What do you say to fighting for the better good, make some changes around here?"

Alexander realized that both gazes were upon him. "What exactly do you mean?"

"We're part of a rebellion, see?" he said. "And we're running low on troops. Judging by what you just did, you can hold your own in combat."

On one hand, Alexander sincerely didn't want to make a decision without his captain. On the other, he did have to make a decision and there was no way around doing so. Ignoring the man wouldn't work; he did track them down from the port to the country side. Taking a deep breath, he slowly began to nod. "This is a heavy decision to make. Can you give me some time?"

"No time, no time," the man repeated. "See, General Taylor needs his troops and we need to be ready as soon as possible."

"General Taylor can wait five minutes," Cain insisted. "Leave us in peace and return then. Do not stay in the vicinity; I will know and you will not enjoy the consequences."

The man bowed his head and ran down the road, only stopping when he was a speck in the distance. The massive bandit sat down and looked down at Alexander. The musician stared out into space, thinking hard about his next course of action. As if on cue, the snail in his jacket pocket began burbling. Sighing with relief, he reached inside and gently picked up the receiver, allowing Cain to hunch over him to hide him from view. "Is it you, Cassandra?" Just in case the man was listening in, it would be unwise to give away their relationship.

"I'm here, Alexander," the snail replied. "Listen, as it turns out, we're going to be helping some rebels for a while."

The portly alchemist rubbed his forehead. "I know."

"And how do you know that?" Snail-Cassandra asked with a frown. "I didn't leave my BDDM on…"

"I know, because we've just received a similar offer," he responded. "I guess my answer is clear now."

"We'll meet up at their base," his captain instructed him. "Do they know about Damien?"

"Unfortunately," Alexander muttered. "But it's no big deal. I need to go now. See you later."

The Baby Den-Den Mushi looked up at them. "Both of you take care of each other and Damien, you he- Bye-bye! See you soon!"

Cain frowned as the snail went to sleep. "That was definitely Lyn's voice at the end."

"So it was," Alexander deadpanned. "Let's go tell our rebel friend the good news and go look for Damien."

Once they had relayed their acceptance to the rebel, it was unsurprisingly easy to locate the wayward navigator. They found him reclining, wings outspread, amid what used to remain of a park, surrounded by merrily blazing plants and the decimated bodies of the Reichmann police. His eyes watched them warily, his gaze apparently having been focused on them ever since he detected their presence. "Th' fuck d'ya want?"

"How'd you like to fight more of these men?" Alexander asked, going directly for what interested his friend the most. "I hear some of them are actually pretty strong."

Damien pushed himself to his feet and clomped over to the trio, looming over the rebel to enforce his superiority. "Figh'in', y' say. I ain' takin' orders from nobody an' I get ta crack some 'eads?"

"To your heart's content," the rebel assured him, cowering slightly behind Alexander.

The berserker shrugged and folded his wings into his back. "Ah'm in. Where're we goin'?"

"There is an underground tram that leads to our base of operations," the man explained. "I can take you to the entrance-"

Damien, however, only heard 'underground' and quickly decided his own course of action. "Diavolo Falcone!" He exploded into the air, sending the three people reeling backwards from the blast of heat. Turning fluidly in midair, he plummeted earthwards, plowing straight through the ground already weakened by his earlier rampage. Alexander rolled his eyes as the earth gave way beneath him, trusting that Cain would grab him before he fell too far. Sure enough, a thick mass of muscle encircled his chest as they began their descent, bringing him closer for safety. He simply waited as they tumbled to the distant floor, listening to the rebel's cries of surprise and Damien's mad laughter.

After they recovered from the landing, Alexander hopped onto the cold stones and gazed upwards. To his surprise, the hole Damien had made appeared no bigger than a pinhead. As it had been large enough to swallow all of them with ease, that was quite some distance for someone to fall. Most normal humans would die from such a height and even those with above average abilities would be moderately wounded. Fortunately, Cain was used to leaping and falling such distances while Damien's body was resistant to shocks and his metal bones wouldn't break so easily.

"Where's th' fuckin' way?" Damien growled, turning to the shell-shocked rebel.

The shaken man pointed towards a distant light, his finger trembling heavily. "Th-there's one of the w-waypoints. I can sh-sh-show you how to use them."

"Show 'em," Damien snarled. Surprisingly, he began walking in a completely different direction, ignoring the trio he had brought down with him.

Cain looked after the man vanishing into the darkness and asked, "Where's he going?"

"He'll join us later," Alexander dismissed. "Point the way, my friend. Let's see this rebellion of yours."

* * *

My beta couldn't stop laughing at Damien's decision on how to get underground. I thought it was a perfectly natural thing to do.


	47. Gathering the Team

This one I had tons of fun writing, mostly because I got to take a break from the Black Glove Pirates.

* * *

The man leaned back in his comfortable seat, staring at the rabble before him. His face was hidden from view by his deep purple cowl, which suited him just fine. His fingers, each decorated with a jeweled gold ring, drummed patiently on the arm of his chair. The thick glass separating his booth from the main facility tinted everything a dark brown, diminishing the brightness of the small alcove.

"Where is that waiter?" he asked the effeminate man beside him. "I ordered my meal fifteen minutes ago."

His companion wrung his hands as he looked about, plucking at the tattered shirt clinging loosely to his torso. "I dunno, mister. I'm hungry too."

The hooded man regarded him analytically. "Well, don't just sit there. Go find out where my food has gone."

Nodding, the man scurried off to do as he was told. The hooded one shook his head and sighed, withdrawing his hand back into his cloak. This rebellion was pathetic. He supposed that the last retaliation by the palace guards had decimated their troops, but they should still treat their soldiers with some degree of civility. He wished that he had come earlier when the stores were more plentiful and the degree of discipline high, but finding out about the rebellion had been difficult to do.

He watched impassively as his companion returned carrying two plates of food. "I found him," the smaller man said. "He was going into each booth and asking whether he had served them already."

The hooded man had no response, so overcome was he by disgust at the food presented before him. "And what, may I ask, is this?" he asked, gingerly prodding a brown mass with his fork. "Please tell me that this isn't the rations given to the troops."

"I'm sorry, mister," came the reply. "This is the best it gets. Trust me, I've been here for almost a week now."

"I wouldn't feed this to a starving mountain goat," the hooded man scoffed, knocking the plate to the ground as he rose. "Where are the kitchens? I must speak to the chef and demand a proper meal, not this filth, this rubbish, this-"

"That's not a good idea," his companion protested weakly. "The cook doesn't like complaints about his food."

"Like I care," the first one snapped. "He's going to get complaints and he's going to make me a decent meal and if he gives me any lip, he's going to damn well prepare the best meal he can with two broken legs."

He stormed out of the booth, glancing here and there for any indications of the kitchens. People were milling about the massive hall, chattering loudly to one another as they feasted upon slop at the provided tables. He couldn't stand being around this scum of the earth; that was why he had his own dining area. He simply had to get something edible to eat, even if he had to cook it himself. His hidden eyes followed the people he assumed to be waiters back and forth, noting their seemingly random routes through the crowd. After some time, he finally deduced where the most likely place for a kitchen was and took a step forward, only to be restrained by his companion.

"Seriously, mister," he whined, sweat beading around his green bandana. "The chef will only listen to you if you have people behind you. It's a team thing, he says, the more people there are, the more food you get."

"My understanding is that the more people there are, the less money I get," the hooded man stated. "That's not going to happen."

"Please! We need more people if we're going to survive battle!" the short man insisted.

"If I get paid less, there's no way that I'm doing anything of the sort!"

His companion was about to respond when a beefy woman placed herself between them, frowning down at them. "What's all this? Fighting among each other?"

"No, miss, we weren't-"

The first one shoved him to the side, effectively silencing him. "I demand to talk to the cook and I don't care that I'm only one person! I deserve better food than this!"

The woman's frown deepened as she folded her arms. "Oh really? And what makes you so special? Were you a king or something who was kicked out of their kingdom and now you have to make a living as a lowly mercenary?"

"Get out of my way, woman, I have business to attend to!"

"If you can't even answer that question, you don't deserve anything," she retorted. "We're paying you to be here and if you don't like it, there's the door."

The hooded man practically radiated irritation. "Such impudence! What makes you entitled to give me orders?"

"What gives you the right to ignore them?" she snapped. "Sit your ass down and eat just like everybody else."

Seething, the man extended his hand out from under his cloak, squeezing the air angrily. "Out of my way. Now."

"No," she stated, her hands clenching into fists. "Sit down. Now."

"I will teach you your place!" He threw aside his cloak for better mobility, revealing everything but his face. Much to the surprise of the onlookers, he was clearly an extremely wealthy man. Translucent silks draped off his torso and rims, held in place by a purple vest and pants, both lined in thick gold weave. Aureate bracelets circled his wrists and ankles; a cord of woven gold fastened his pants; jewels sparkled all over his clothing. The eyes of every person in the room seemed to morph into giant Beli signs as they gazed at the splendor before them and more than a few put their hands to their weapons.

Seeing the greedy looks he had attracted, he put his hand to his neck. Among the gold chains lay a simple necklace of thin rope bearing what seemed like a sprig of a plant, a rock and a vial of water. "Any man attempting to rob me will find themselves in a world of pain."

But despite his threats, rebels were moving towards him, drool creeping out of their mouths as they mentally calculated how much money his jewelry would sell for. Before they could accomplish their goal, something in the distance attracted the hooded man's attention and he visibly paled. Seeing that he wasn't focused on them, the mob turned and took a collective step backwards.

A humongous man, easily taller than any other person present, was slowly lumbering through the gate, his eyes scanning the crowd. His bulging muscles seemed to have been carved from stone, rippling slightly as he walked into the room. The hooded man quickly drew his cloak about himself again and began retreating slowly, edging towards his private alcove. His effeminate companion, having vanished sometime after his conflict with the female rebel, appeared by his side once more. "I think you shouldn't have done that…"

"Quiet," the hooded man hissed, trying not to attract attention to himself. "Make a distraction."

"What?" his companion asked in surprise, dark yellow eyes wide with fear. "What do you mean-"

Before he could continue, the hooded man dealt him a sharp kick, sending him crashing into a nearby man, who hadn't stopped eating since he had sat down. Unhappy with being disturbed, the obese mercenary shoved him in a different direction, one involving a woman covered in tiger stripes. He began flying back and forth like a pinball, liquid seeping from his eyes and nose as he tried in vain to deal with his terror. The enormous man frowned as his eyes followed the frightened man, ceasing his search as he went to intervene.

Exhaling a breath of relief, the hooded man fled back into his personal dining area, concealing himself in the shadows. Satisfied that he had escaped successfully, he sat back in his chair and chuckled lightly. At least, he would have. For some reason, a cowgirl was reclining on his seat, leg draped over the arm of the chair as she regarded him carefully.

"This is a private booth," he told her after he got his heart to stop pounding as quickly. "Please leave so I might-"

"Shut up." The complete lack of courtesy stunned him into silence more than the actual command. "Why are you here?"

"My companion exchanged part of his wage for this area," he explained. "So-"

The cowgirl cocked a pistol, causing him to close his mouth tightly. "Why are you participating in this rebellion? You obviously aren't poor and your attitude shows no trace of charity."

"I am actually poor," he protested. "Please leave this place."

"Sell your adornments," she offered. "They should go for tens of millions."

"If you will not leave, I will be forced to talk to the officials," he informed her. He turned, about to do just that, only to find himself face-to-face with one of the most scantily clad women he had ever seen. His eyes slowly panned down her body, admiring her milky white skin, shapely hips, full bosom-

He closed his eyes as he felt something cold press against the back of his cowl. "Eyes on my face, not her breasts," came the command from behind him. "We're talking here."

Slowly turning around, he spread his hands and asked, "Why don't we start over? I am just seeking work and would rather not be disturbed."

An amused grin spread across the cowgirl's lips as she cocked her head to the side. "And where did all that fire go? Out there, you were pretty sure of yourself."

"Beautiful women do not deserve rough treatment," he answered.

"You don't believe a word of that," she cut in. "You just don't want to find out if I can pull the trigger faster than you can counter me."

His sheepish smile revealed a perfect set of pearly white teeth. "You've caught me. But please, why are you in this particular booth? There were plenty of other unoccupied spaces to choose from."

"You aroused my curiosity," she said with a shrug, removing her pistol and sitting back down. "You were completely unafraid of such a large number of mercenaries and that fear stemmed from skill, not overconfidence. What do you say to teaming up?"

The hooded man seated himself beside her. "I am grateful for the offer, but I really-"

"I know your motivation is money," she interrupted. "I will offer you half of both of our earnings."

This caused him to reconsider. "That's quite a condition. Is it only you two?"

"Three others will join us shortly," she told him. "I can speak for them and offer half of their payment as well."

"My, my, my," he muttered to himself, the sounds of cash registers echoing through his mind. "That's an offer I can't refuse. I have my own friend, so the team will be the seven of us."

She tilted her head to the side, regarding him carefully. "And you aren't at all curious as to why I'm making such an offer?"

"It came to mind," he said briefly. "But I don't think it really matters at this point."

"Good, because I have one more condition." She leaned in, making her point perfectly clear. "I'm the leader."

He was about to object when he remembered that he was getting three times the amount he was originally going to be paid. "Done. Where are your allies?"

The grin on her face widened and took on a slightly more sinister look. "You've already seen them."

Frowning, he wondered what she meant as she rapped her knuckles on the glass. He looked outside, eyes growing larger as he saw who she was referring to. The enormous man who had just entered the room leaned over from his position just out of sight, having been obscured by the junction between the wall and the pane of glass. A portly, well-dressed man entered through the door, bowing cordially as he sat beside the other woman. The hooded man waited a moment, watching his surroundings carefully.

"You said you had three more comrades," he recalled.

"And you said you had one," she shot back. "My final man is somewhere else and will arrive when he feels like it. But he's not a problem. For basic team dynamics, we need names and abilities. Does General Taylor have a list of names he'd like us to use?"

The hooded man nodded. "My associate had one, just to remind me to get more team members. Where the devil did he take himself off to?"

"We can start with abilities, then," the cowgirl said. "I, as leader, will go first. I am proficient with knives for distance and close combat. I'm better with guns: pistols and rifle. I can shoot the spots off a ladybug from over the horizon. I can move fast, react faster and think fastest. Fitting attributes for a leader, don't you think?"

"Modest, too," the hooded man drawled, turning as his companion entered the alcove. "Ah, there you are. Where's that list you had of the recommended names from General Taylor?"

The man's soft amber eyes lit up as he realized his companion was actually going to be participating in the rebellion as part of a team. Swiftly wiping his hands on his pants, he began searching through his pockets. After a short time, he produced a long roll of paper and brandished it triumphantly through the air. "Got it! How many people do we have, six?"

"Seven," the cowgirl corrected. "Show me the categories for seven people."

Pausing, the man turned to the hooded one, silently asking for permission. Before he could react, the scantily-clad woman snatched the roll from his hands and began searching through it herself. Her electric blue eyes roved back and forth as she read the options carefully. Finding one she liked, her face brightened with a radiant grin and she bounded over to the cowgirl. "Ooh! Ooh! Pick this one, Captain, it fits perfectly!"

The cowgirl gave a short burst of laughter as she saw the choice given. "Right you are. What name fits us better than the seven cardinal sins?"

The hooded man raised his eyebrows. "The seven cardinal sins?"

"Anger, Lust, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Pride and Envy," the effeminate man recited. Quickly. "Are you sure that's what you want to pick?"

"Of course," she snapped, rolling up the paper and handing it back to him. "Go tell them what we've chosen. If the name is taken, tell them to come visit me. I'll be open to negotiations."

Eyeing the hand straying to her pistols, he exclaimed, "Oh! Are you the gunslinger known as the Superfast Quadruple Guns?"

"Where did you hear such an absurd rumor?" the cowgirl asked with genuine surprise. "The only way that would apply to me is because I have four pistols."

"But right before I came in, I heard you say you're really fast!" he protested. "Doesn't that make you-"

"I'm not the Superfast whatever!" she snapped. "Now go turn in the names."

"So, Pride," the hooded man began, turning back to her. "I assume that's the moniker you'll be using. What about your other companions?"

"Sloth!" she shouted. "State your abilities. All of them."

The well-dressed man looked up from cleaning his trumpet. "I ate a Devil Fruit and became an alchemist that can turn anything into a basic element. I can summon spirits to sing with me, creating soundwaves."

"Thank you very much, Sloth," the cowgirl stated. "Lust, your turn."

"Oh! That's me!" the other woman chirped, a pleased grin on her face. "I can remove my spirit and use a sword!"

Pride nodded. "That's all she has, actually. Gluttony, what about you?"

The enormous man leaned to the side again, making himself visible to the occupants of the small booth. "I am strong, far stronger than any normal human being. I can make weapons out of the materials around me and can wield all arms proficiently."

"Let's see, I've got those four," Pride muttered to herself. "That leaves anger, greed and envy. Can you guess which one I chose for you?"

"Avarice, not Greed," the hooded man said haughtily. "I, too, consumed a Devil Fruit. I can encase myself in elementals composed of whatever material I touch."

"Most interesting," Pride contemplated. "You and Sloth have complementary fruits. It's lucky indeed that you chose to join us."

Avarice waved the matter aside. "And my companion, what does he get?"

"Ours has gotta be Wrath!" Lust bubbled. "So yours has gotta be Envy!"

The hooded man nodded. "Very well. What can Wrath do?"

Pride opened her mouth to answer, but Sloth beat her to it. "He is quite strong, has metal wings, bones, teeth and claws and can summon spirits to rage with him, manifesting in flames."

"Oh, is that how he does it?" Lust asked. "I've always wondered."

The final man stumbled back into the room, sweat beading on his brow. "They accepted our team name. Which sin am I labeled with?"

"Envy," Pride told him. "What can you do?"

"I know martial arts," he mumbled. "My best move is one that basically transforms my body into a whip, concentrating all my power into a single point."

The cowgirl raised an eyebrow. "Could you please demonstrate this ability?"

He looked over at Avarice, then quickly back over to Pride. Nodding shakily, he positioned himself in front of the glass and took a deep breath. He lifted one heel and slammed it back on the ground, creating a visible wave through his body. His spine curved around, followed by his shoulder, elbow and wrist. His index finger snapped around, shaking the air with an audible _crack!_ The thick window exploded outwards, showering everyone in the vicinity with shards of glass.

"Wow," Lust whistled, staring out at the shocked crowd. "That's awesome. Hey, look, there's Wrath! How'd he get here?"

Avarice followed the others' lines of sight over to a dark-skinned warrior shoving food into his mouth. Throwing back his head and swallowing the last of it, he got to his feet and began ambling towards them. The hooded man frowned; aside from his countless scars, this man seemed relatively stable. There seemed to be no reason why his nickname should be Wrath. That is, until he shoved a table out of his way hard enough to send the furniture crashing against the far wall. Whether or not he deserved the name was irrelevant. He was not somebody to annoy under any circumstances.

"Th' fuck y'all lookin' at?" he growled at the surrounding crowd. The onlookers abruptly remembered that they had conversations that needed carrying on. Even the stronger ones regarded him warily, hands on weapons as they resumed consuming their meals. Lumbering over to them, he glanced around at the broken glass with interest. "The fuck 'appened 'ere?"

"Envy, here, did that," Gluttony boomed. "In this rebellion, you don't use your real name. You're called Wrath from now on."

"Wrath…" the man rolled the name over his tongue as if tasting it. Avarice noticed that the others were holding their breath in anticipation and briefly wondered if he should do the same. Before he reached a decision, Wrath nodded and stumped inside. "Ah like it."

"Figured you would," Pride told him. "Now, Sins, what do we do now? General Taylor has a speech in about twenty minutes that we have to listen to. That means we have maybe fifteen minutes to kill. Is there a practice arena where we could test out various abilities? Envy, you seem to know a lot about this place. Go find us somewhere to fight."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Raven alighted on a curved protrusion, hidden in the shadows from the people below her. Crouching down, she prepared to observe the seven combatants, ready to take careful notes for her captain. The integration with the rebels had gone seamlessly on their part and her skills enabled her to infiltrate the outer defenses with relative ease. If the World Government wanted to stop this uprising, they could do so without breaking a sweat.

Listening to the abilities offered by her captain's new allies was informative, almost as much as listening to the descriptions of her own crewmembers. Hearing Alexander describe himself and Damien as summoners was unexpected, though not outrageous. From what she had gleaned from the musician previously, the pair had grown up near some powerful mystics. She did not put it past them to learn a few useful abilities.

What she tasked herself with was watching over the two additions, Avarice and Envy. She had little doubts as to the former's true identity, but the latter was a complete mystery. Raven knew that mysteries could sometimes end quite badly if left unsolved. For all she knew, Envy could be a double-agent sent to disrupt the rebellion and the other six were simply scapegoats to take the fall. There was also something else about him that seemed off, but she would deal with that when she went to discover more information about him.

Cassandra was just finishing organizing the spars, deciding to sit out and simply watch, just as her doctor was doing. Raven knew that the sniper would want to compare information afterwards, which was part of the reason she wasn't off investigating Envy at the moment. The captain was leaning back in a corner, pointing at two members to begin first. The practice room was quite interesting, thick metal squares covering the floor and walls. It made hitting those surfaces quite painful, but also made it so more powerful rebels would be able to fight without fear of completely destroying their surroundings. As for the sparring pair, Lyn was fairly bursting with energy and Envy seemed justly relieved that he didn't have to fight some of the other pirates.

After facing each other and giving a short bow, they assumed ready stances and prepared themselves. Lyn made the first move, darting forward with her rapier. Envy gracefully countered the attacking pirate, swatting aside the sword with the back of his hand and throwing his other in a swift sideways chop. Instead of being thrown off balance, Lyn used the deflection to spin around and launch her beads at his face. The rebel was forced to duck backwards to avoid them, retreating just out of her reach to begin his next move.

Lyn continued her spin as she leapt after him, her rapier fairly singing as it whipped through the air. The rebel brought his arms up to block, taking the swipe in the forearms. Much to Lyn's surprise, the sword simply bounced off and her twisting was brought to an abrupt halt. Envy seized the opportunity and sent out a lightning fast jab, knocking the first mate head over heels.

Raven's mind worked quickly to deduce the reason behind the swift turn of events, but the cause became evident soon enough. Having been cut by the sharp blade, Envy's sleeves sagged slightly, revealing a set of studded leather bracers. Before the first mate could rise, he sprang after her, pointer finger raised high into the air. With one strong turn, he whipped his hand around. His fingertip landed directly on the center of her chest and the air shook with a loud retort. Lyn convulsed and her face contorted with pain, hands dropping weapons as she reached to comfort her wounded chest.

But before Envy could declare himself winner, she twisted around and dealt him a sharp kick to the side. The unexpected attack knocked the rebel off of her, giving her time to roll away from him. Envy shot to his feet, but Lyn was rising as well, one hand still planted between her breasts. Her gloved hand was clutching her rapier tightly, as she had chosen to roll towards it and not her loop of beads. She was breathing heavily and her orange bangs fell before her face, but she appeared willing to continue.

Trying to act before she could move, Envy dashed forward, hands drawn to his side in preparation for more fast punches. But Lyn hopped backwards and thrust out her rapier well before he was in range. Something shimmered through the air and struck him in the thigh, causing him to cry out in pain and stumble to the ground. The first mate skidded to a halt as she struggled for breath, loud coughs shaking her pale form.

Still, they persevered. After Envy stood up and Lyn managed to breathe more normally, they threw themselves at each other once more. The first mate was almost instantly disarmed again when Envy caught the blade between his bracers, but she simply wove around him, diving instead for her beads. The rebel managed to grab one of her legs, but this proved to be a wildly unsuccessful tactic. Lyn curled around and kicked out hard with her free foot, connecting solidly with his lower back. Envy curved forward as he released her, hands attempting to reach the area she had struck. Deciding to ignore her beads, Lyn spun around using her gloved hand and tackled the rebel's knees, sending them both crashing to the floor.

Cassandra called out to interrupt any further conflict, obviously trying to avoid serious injury to either combatant. The pair looked completely fine with this, each helping the other stand up. Arms over shoulders, they worked their way over to the wall, where they promptly sat back down, nursing each of their injuries. Satisfied with the result of the spar, the pirate captain chose the next fighters.

Much to the surprise of everyone present, she made the fight two versus one. Avarice and Cain looked at each other while Damien grinned in anticipation. The other three began protesting loudly, but Raven completely understood the woman's logic. It was always difficult to fight when Damien was going to go all out, even in a non-lethal spar. There had been times when she and the berserker had agreed to handicaps so as to reduce the danger of grievous bodily harm, but other times he had thrown the entirety of his effort into killing the black-clad doctor. By making the two other men team up against him, he could hold back considerably less than he did usually. Whether or not he went all out was up to chance.

Damien aside, this was the time everyone had been waiting for. As they took the field, Avarice spread his cloak wide, revealing the finery he had adorned himself with. His hand grabbed the out-of-place necklace and he said something Raven couldn't hear. Rocks seemed to materialize out of nowhere, surrounding his body and hiding it from sight. The stone elemental began to grow larger and larger, soon reaching the size of his sparring teammate. He flexed the ends of his arms to sprout thick fingers and rolled his neck to better form his head. After concluding his preparations, he looked like a badly-carved stone statue, a basic humanoid shape with few discernable features.

In response to this, Damien fairly exploded, the bright flash of light causing everyone to avert their eyes. When they regained use of their sight, they saw that fires were pouring from his skin in long, curving swirls. His claws were extended and his wings were spread out, indicating that he was truly excited about this brawl. His passion and bloodlust were not unreasonable: Avarice and Cain both appeared to be formidable opponents.

At Cassandra's signal, Damien burst forward, targeting Avarice first. Cain was between them in an instant, a large metal plate he had pried from the floor forming a defensive shield. This protection turned out to be quite useless as the berserker slashed it in half with a quick pirouette, globs of molten metal flying into the air. But the obstruction had given Avarice time to launch his attack without being seen, his stone fist crashing through the broken shield, the halves spinning away while the navigator accepted the full force of the blow. His feet dug deep grooves in the floor as he was pushed backwards, but the attack left him relatively uninjured. Bringing his fist down, he smashed the rock to smithereens, the gravel tumbling out of existence.

Damien promptly lunged towards Cain, spinning forward amid a whirl of flame. The bandit was forced to hastily deflect the mace-like fist and deadly claws with sharp taps so as to avoid getting burned. Unfortunately, the pirate's forward momentum was too great to be deterred so easily and he caught Cain with a powerful kick to the stomach, sending the man soaring across the room. One opponent temporarily dealt with, he turned his attention towards Avarice.

The elementalist had disregarded his damaged limb, easily regenerating it and shrinking slightly to compensate. Cain rebounded off the wall and shot towards the pair in an effort to interrupt their inevitable clash. Damien's grin widened nastily as he dashed forward again, leaping clear over Cain's head when the massive bandit tried to block. He sent several fireballs crashing down around his opponents, distracting them enough to land heavily on Avarice's stone head. His right hand carved a deep gash down the elemental's back as he fell, but Avarice showed no signs of pain as he twisted around to strike at his attacker. Landing heavily on the ground, Damien dodged the punch and darted forward, hacking a large chunk out of its leg as he passed .

Again, the rock humanoid shrunk as it regenerated its wounds, now barely reaching past Cain's collarbone. Raven didn't know where the elementalist was inside his armor, but it was obvious he only had control over a limited amount of resources. She also observed Cain was not contributing as much as he could to this combat, though demonstrating the powers and weaknesses of Avarice's Devil Fruit was certainly beneficial to Cassandra's information gathering.

Indeed, the massive bodyguard began tearing metal plates from the floor and bending them into odd shapes, clapping them onto his body. It soon became apparent that he was fashioning his own suit of armor, which Damien didn't like at all. He bounded towards Avarice, but changed his course the instant he came into contact with the ground, propelling himself towards Cain. The bandit reacted instantly, bringing his fist around and smacking the navigator out of the air. Damien contorted like a cat, easily landing on his three functioning limbs and sliding across the floor. Cain leapt after him, with Avarice dashing around to catch him in a pincer movement.

Unfazed, Damien blew a great ball of flame at the bandit as he raced to meet Avarice's charge. Cain crossed his arms before him and simply ran through it, causing him to loose sight of the berserker for a split second. This was all the time Damien needed to change his course again, tackling Cain around the middle. The bodyguard's face stiffened with pain as the searing flames clung to his body. Cassandra shot to her feet but remained silent, knowing there was nothing she could do. Avarice tried to pry him off the bandit, but his fingers couldn't gain a firm enough grip. A backwards kick plunged through his side, which Damien used to torque his body, spinning Cain around like a pinwheel. The bodyguard's head cracked sickeningly against the ground, causing everyone present to wince.

Throwing the injured man aside, Damien concentrated fully on the elementalist, ripping out large chunks of rock and flinging them to the side. Avarice exploded backwards, forcefully discarding his armor in order to put distance between himself and the navigator. He put his hand to his necklace and shouted something else, managing to avoid Damien for long enough to grow his next elemental. Water began to flow around his limbs, swiftly encasing him in turbulent liquid. Unlike his stone form, he had no legs, instead forming a thin wave with arms and a head, the back of which a graceful curving crest. Most importantly, his real body was clearly visible, making everyone wonder why he would choose this form.

The first thing he did was sweep his arms around, his elemental mimicking his movements. The navigator's flames were temporarily extinguished as he was knocked head over heels, while the hooded man's water arm evaporated in half. Unlike his stone form, he only shrank slightly as his limb regenerated. Damien rolled to his feet and burst towards the human body suspended in the liquid. Avarice simply sank downward, the navigator burning a steaming hole through the elemental's chest. Turning about, the Devil Fruit user raised his arms and poured them onto the pirate, concentrating hard. The water poured off him in thick cascades, evaporating almost instantly as it washed against his skin. The room was quickly filled with humid steam, diminishing visibility.

But the immense pressure kept the navigator still enough for Cain to reach over from his injured position and backhand him into the wall. Damien bounced off and landed heavily on the ground, leaving a deep indent in the metal plate. He lay there for a moment, breathing heavily. Slamming his fist onto the ground, he climbed to his feet and stood still, head lolling lazily backwards. The room began to darken and tendrils of flame began swirling around his body. Before anything else could happen, the ground abruptly transformed into a large pool of water, instantly submerging the raging sadist. The water just as suddenly changed into a block of metal, encasing him in a thick tomb.

Everybody held their breath for a moment and waited for the room to brighten again. Sure enough, the floor was soon shaken by a massive explosion. The metal block turned bright orange, glowing brightly enough to provide light where the shattered lamps and extinguished torches failed. A clawed hand burst out from the molten metal, its owner following shortly behind it. Damien slowly dragged himself from the cooling block, globs of orange dripping from his form.

The navigator rolled onto his back once free from his brief prison, but Raven's attention was not on him. She was watching the alchemist, who had performed two major transformations within a brief amount of time. She knew that such feats were taxing on him, but she had never seen him transmute something so quickly. The doctor also noticed that both of his hands were pressed against the floor and deduced that this was the reason for the double dose of alchemy. Although he was breathing heavily and his clothes were sticking to his skin with sweat, he was still conscious, an indication that he hadn't spent too much energy using his power. Clearly, he was getting better at knowing his own limits.

Her onyx eyes snapped to the side as the door burst open, a band of rebels flooding in to see the commotion. They looked from person to person, watching as each one deactivated whatever ability they were using. The leader said something to Cassandra, who nodded and motioned for the other six to follow her. It was time for General Taylor to make his speech. The thick spike protruding from the wall was suddenly vacant, no evidence that anyone had been there at all.

* * *

Avarice is such a fun character to write. Exaggerated characters always are. I think Envy needs a boost too.


	48. The Reichmann Battle Plan

Just to be clear, Cassandra is Pride, Lyn is Lust, Damien is Wrath, Alexander is Sloth and Cain is Gluttony. Raven does not have a nickname while Avarice and Envy were not given real names.

* * *

General Taylor Monchstein was a proud man. He had the courage to fight for what he believed in and he had the ability to implement change. He did have a slight fear of public speaking and the crowd congregating before him did nothing to soothe his beating heart. He had been desperate to succeed and as such had had to recruit anybody and everybody he could. People with stellar reputations and people he found randomly on the street, people of all shapes and sizes and abilities.

He gripped the railing of the balcony tightly as he stared over the gathered throng. Glancing to either side, he reassured himself that his close friends were still beside him. Michael was resting against the nearby pillar, his armor glittering in the lamplight. Slowly turning the page of his book, Sariputta was sitting on a stone chair with one leg folded over the other.

"Nice to see you have my back," General Taylor jested lightly.

Neither man moved an inch. "Would you just give the damn speech?" Michael ordered. "It's bad enough listening to those miscreants talk amongst themselves about when you're gonna start. Start talking and let those who came late get filled in."

"Whatever words we utter should be chosen with care for people will hear them and be influenced by them for good or ill," Sariputta intoned.

Removing the monk's cowl from his head, General Taylor stood up to his full height and looked out over the crowd. "My friends! My companions! My comrades and allies!"

Silence obediently followed his words. "We gather here today for one purpose: to overthrow the tyranny that is the Reichmann rule. Whether you are here because of money or fame is irrelevant. There are other opportunities for fame, other opportunities for money. Doing this for the good of others is why we are truly here! We need to be free of these madmen, we need to be free of this way of living!"

He paused and waited for the raucous applause to die down. "Contrary to what some of you might think, this rebellion was not my idea. I will admit, I used to live quite contently in R. Capital. I was a rich merchant with a nice house, a loving wife, two beautiful daughters and a charming son. But my wife was accused of inappropriate activities, teaching elementary school students about the history of the island, and was punished severely, past the point of no return. As I held her in my arms, she asked me with her dying breath, could I make a better land for our children?

"I knew I could do it. It was not only a possibility, it was a necessity. This land needs its freedom. And we are the people to give it freedom. We have the strength, the power, the speed, the agility, the will to change this island. The Reichmanns are no match for us when our blood gets boiling! We will have our justice! We will have our freedom!"

He was interrupted again by thunderous clapping and ear-splitting whistles. "Now I know we've had our struggles and the past few months have not been as successful as we would have hoped. We have lost friends to the Reichmanns that we won't ever be getting back. They are adapting to our methods and we are running out of options. You've no doubt seen some new faces around here, some faces that don't seem like they quite fit in. We are down to our last men and women. I acknowledge that! But they are not doing well either. Their resources are wearing thin and their soldiers are just as weary.

"Yes, I know that the World Government has given them some powerful weapons. I am not going to lie to you. There are government supersoldiers, ancient warriors revived from stasis, world-renown mercenaries and even a few elite assassins. Most of these people are more deadly than we care to imagine, responsible for countless casualties and the loss of many good people. There are insane fighters, Devil Fruit users, monsters with unbelievable abilities that even I do not relish crossing.

"But it would be remiss of me to boast our own show of talents. Among us, hiding in our midst, there are those completely qualified to match the strength of the Reichmann army. We have legendary swordsmen from North Blue, powerhouse boxers from our own island, a handful of up-and-coming rookie pirates who show no signs of stopping their ascent to the top. Together with them-"

"Yo Taylor!"

The general paused, visibly taken aback by the interruption. Much to his surprise, one of the rebels was using tiny gaps in the mortar to climb up to his level. Throwing an arm over the railing of the balcony, the rebel hauled himself up, silver teeth glittering in his smile. General Taylor frowned, trying to figure out what he was doing here. "Can I help you?"

"I'm really happy for you and I'mma let you finish, but Roland's the best fighter here!" the man shouted, pointing at a man in the audience.

He froze when he realized Michael's sword was pressed firmly against his windpipe. Most people hadn't even seen the armored man move and some recoiled in shock. "How about you sit your ass back down with the rest of them?" he snarled. "General Taylor's got other problems to deal with."

The obviously frightened man scampered back down, vanishing into the crowd. Michael resheathed his sword, turning to vent his anger on his passive counterpart. "And you! Why the hell didn't you do anything?"

"A dog is not considered a good dog because he is a good barker," Sariputta stated without looking up. "A man is not considered a good man because he is a good talker."

He continued calmly reading his book, ignoring the sheath speeding towards his head. Before it could connect, a thick gauntlet caught it midswing, holding it firm. "Peace, Michael," General Taylor pleaded. "Let us save the fight for the enemy."

Michael gave a small grin as he leaned back against the post. "You might want to tell them that."

General Taylor, wondering what he was talking about, turned back and gasped with horror. An enormous brawl had broken out as various people tried to reach the indicated fighter. Even from his high vantage point, he could see the genuine desire to prove their superiority in the eyes of every person involved with this conflict. Knowing there was nothing else he could do, he leapt off the balcony, drawing his own massive weapon.

Rebels were sent flying as the spear slammed down in the middle, a massive shockwave shaking even the ones farthest from the impact. Monk's robe fluttering around him, General Taylor climbed to his feet and stared angrily at the people surrounding him. "This is foolishness! You are wasting your energy and skills fighting amongst each other. Let us not anger cloud our judgment."

The mob began to recede, weapons clinking as they found their respective sheaths. Satisfied, General Taylor began striding through the crowd, deciding to resume his plans as he walked. "Let's be clear, we need to strike and strike hard. I have no doubt that our attack will be successful this time around. In three days, the Reichmanns will be welcoming some people from Autumn Isle. A good portion of their forces will be outside their palace. That's when we need to strike. We will be mobilizing as one unit, one army. For those of you who are new to us, know that I am the type of man who leads his army from the middle, not the front or the back. This is for optimal coordination of forces to overwhelm the enemy with strategy as well as brute strength.

"This will require new teams to register for their various positions in the army. If possible, I would like to meet with the team leaders before our attack. I will be absent during the next few days, but Michael and Sariputta will be here to deal with any requests. But when I return-"

"General Taylor!" The crowd parted slightly to accept the panting messenger, wondering if this interruption was going to be as counterproductive as the first. "General Taylor!"

His grip tightened on the shaft of his spear. "Can I help you?"

"The convoy!" the messenger gasped, coming to a halt with his hands on his knees. "The convoy is here!"

"Convoy? What convoy?"

"This guy's gotta be out of his mind."

"Fuckin' brat. Why don't you pay our leader some respect?"

"Keep quiet until the general is finished speaking."

The messenger ignored the murmurs of the crowd, looking up at General Taylor with shining eyes. "The convoy of supplies has arrived!"

General Taylor's mood brightened considerably. "You mean armor, weapons and food?"

"FOOD!" There was an almighty stampede as the majority of the rebels rushed out of the cavernous hall in search of decent provisions. The leader slowly ran his fingers through his royal blue hair, laughing loudly at the absurdity of the situation. In all fairness, he felt that the rebels needed a good meal more than his motivational words. Shaking his head, he looked around to see who had stayed behind.

Unsurprisingly, a few of the team leaders remained in the massive room, staring after their departed comrades. Clearing his throat loudly as he strove to contain his amusement, General Taylor stuck his spear back into position on his back and spread his hands wide. "My brothers and sisters, do you not wish to dine with your friends upon actual food? I admit our fare was quite poor until now. Please, eat. Replenish your energy."

"Some of us have eaten more recently than others," a lanky man explained. "We're more interested with battle plans for the final attack."

"What's your name, soldier?" Michael asked, leveling his sword at the rebel.

"Hell, sir," the man replied. "Teammates are Earth and Heaven."

"Very well," General Taylor said, gesturing for those remaining to gather closer to him. "Would the rest of you like to volunteer your names? If you simply wish to sit in on the discussion and abstain from speaking, by no means should you feel compelled to give them. It would simply make things easier if those willing to talk give their names. I admit, giving the names of your team members would be appreciated to give context to your choice."

After a moment, a thin woman stepped forward. "Tanakh, sir. Are we going to be sneaking in to the mansion or attacking full on?"

Michael waved his hands, motioning for them all to move aside. When they complied, he threw out his arms, spreading out a massive piece of parchment. Nodding thankfully to his partner, General Taylor walked onto the map of R. Capital, loosening his spear from its holster to more easily point to the various parts of the markings.

"The exits into the city we are going to be using are here, here and here. At ten o'clock, the Reichmanns will open their gates and the soldiers will march out. At ten fifteen, about a third of the army will have left the gates. At that time, one prong, led by Gabriel, will emerge, attacking the side of the column here. By ten ten, we should have archers, gunners and other ranged attackers on rooftops and in buildings to harass the soldiers once Gabriel begins his strike. After a brief encounter, Gabriel and his forces will retreat through the city so our ranged teams can hit the soldiers, who will inevitably be given the orders to chase the rebels.

"Then at ten twenty, Qiyama will lead her troops out of this entrance to attack the reinforcements who will come from the east and south ends of the palace."

"Wait, back up," Hell cut in. "So Gabriel's guys will be a decoy?"

"They are the first decoy," Michael explained. "That group actually has the highest chance of survival. Second most is Qiyama's group. Now, as I was saying, the reinforcements will come from outside and some from the main mansion. There are gates and portcullises that can be lowered to slow the influx of soldiers, but by and large, they'll have to deal with actual soldiers.

"At ten twenty five, Michael will lead the third group into the main mansion. Sariputta and I will be part of that group, for it has the lowest chance of survival and we must be there to counter some of the more dangerous threats. When the Reichmanns first perceive the attack, the footsoldiers will go out and some of the supersoldiers will too. But the strongest fighters will remain in the mansion to defend the main family. That is why I need to go there, and why I cannot spare Sariputta or Michael to any other party. Besides, Gabriel and Qiyama are both competent fighters. They should do fine."

"Scuse me, sir," another man interrupted, adjusting his monocle. "The name's Black B, leading Blood, Yellow B and Phlegm. But do we have information on likely opponents in the various parties before joining either one? Or are we simply going to do it based on difficulty versus survivability?"

"Glad you asked," Generay Taylor nodded. "Gabriel's group, as I said, are going to be largely dealing with mere infantry. There might be a couple large humans there as well. Qiyama's group will be significantly harder. There are people with superhuman strength and speed, a few remarkable swordsmen, some Devil Fruit users and if the battle lasts long enough, a couple giants should join in the fray."

Hell whistled loudly. "Your group must be in for one fuckin' wild ride."

"You have no idea." General Taylor began passing around packets of information. "As you can see, there are some significant threats to overcome. Devil Fruit users, world-renown mercenaries, three fishmen, master swordsmen, government agents… this is not going to be an easy nut to crack."

"Holy shit…" one rebel breathed involuntarily, covering his mouth with his hand.

General Taylor nodded. "There are some people I must caution you against unless you are absolutely sure you can survive. The Albino Panther is a swordsman without peer in West Blue. X was recently dispatched from Marineford to oversee the Reichmanns-"

"Wait, what?" The scholar beside Hell frowned as she read the file. "He has the Lava Fruit?"

"Huh," another man murmured to himself. "Eber, by the way. And this one, Nikolai Reichmann… what the hell does a 'trickster' use to fight?"

General Taylor sighed as he leaned back. "This is all we know. We don't have any first-hand accounts, but distant observations reveal he never leaves his hall. Unfortunately, which hall is his changes at random intervals from a day to a month. He changed about a week ago, so our information might be outdated. We should try our best to avoid him. Any other pressing questions about the monsters we'll be facing?"

Black B raised his hand. "You mentioned we had our own special forces. I understand the desire for anonymity, but can you at least reveal a couple assets we have?"

"Certainly," General Taylor assured him. "Michael, do you remember which ones you can count among our strongest?"

"Aside from us three, you mean." The armored rebel shifted slightly. "I think you covered the biggest ones already. Three swordsmen, not necessarily on the same team, who can be counted as among the elite. We need at least two of them to join us to counter the Albino Panther. Two boxers who I have seen punch through a plate of metal a cannonball barely dented, though I actually haven't seen the pair of them recently. They do have visas, so they could be somewhere on the island.

"We have some pirates among us as well, three crews where at least the captain has a bounty and five otherwise. The bounties are all in the tens of millions, even one above seventy. That's not to discount the others, but I do recommend that crew to join us as well. The boxers I think we should designate to Qiyama's group."

"I agree," General Taylor muttered. "What about all of you? Unless you've been assigned already, please don't be afraid to speak up and join a group. We won't think less of you no matter your choice."

Hell curled his lip in a disdainful sneer. "I want this Qiyama person's group. Mark me down with them."

"I concur," Black B added. "I have no desire to deal with such abominations."

The scholar between them raised her hand. "I, Crucifix, wish for my comrades and I to join Gabriel's group."

"Mecca wants to go with Gabe as well!" a young boy chirped, waving his sword.

"Imperial, leader of Shrine, Folk, Sect and Old, wish to go with Qiyama."

"I am Peter. With my eleven followers, we wish to join Gabriel for his assault."

"I want to go with Gabriel too. Patrick, by the way."

"Ghost here. Father and Son would want to accompany Gabriel, so that's what I'll do."

"As I said, I'm called Tanakh. My three followers and I will emerge with the first man, Gabriel."

"I will go with Michael."

The other rebels fell silent in shock, all turning to stare at the woman who had spoken. Looking up to meet the gaze of the man she desired to follow, she repeated herself to be perfectly clear. "I volunteer to go with Michael to join the assault on the mansion itself."

General Taylor did not bother to hide his surprise and delight. While he had been clear that he wanted members in all three teams, he didn't expect someone who had actually seen what she would go up against to agree. "And who are you, my dear?"

"I am Pride," she said softly, tipping her white cowboy hat out of her eyes. "The other six sins are under my command."

"I like you, Pride," Michael shouted immediately. "Not afraid of death-"

"I never said we were going to die," she interrupted. "I have big plans for my future, so I can't die here. My crew and I have fought with terrible dangers before and survived. This is just another stepping stone to me."

General Taylor shook his head in admiration. "You truly chose your alias well, didn't you?"

She merely regarded him coolly. "My crew and I have passports to the island. We may not be present when called during the next few days; much like you, we have information and supplies to gather. In three days, we will join Michael at nine o'clock. Until then, I bid you farewell."

Ignoring the eyes upon her, she departed into the shadows, walking towards the dining hall. The group maintained their eerie silence, each thinking their own thoughts about this bold newcomer. Michael looked thrilled to have someone as prepared as he was to encounter such strong opponents. General Taylor mentally noted her, vowing to search her out at some future time. Sariputta, as usual, never bothered to look up from his book. "The whole secret of existence is to have no fear. Never fear what will become of you; depend on no one. Only the moment you reject all help will you be freed."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"This is the best food I've had thus far," Envy commented, wolfing down his hunk of bread. "Thank goodness for that convoy."

"Yeah, yeah. Just shut up and eat," Lust shot back, waving her arms enthusiastically from her seat on the tabletop. "As I was saying, there we were, surrounded by a thousand guards! Sloth was down for the count, Wrath was practically dead, Captain's kicking ass but there are too many of them! Suddenly, one of the guards revolts, killing the guys next to her. That monk I mentioned before got Wrath on his feet and we skedaddled outta there! We had some trouble getting out of the prison, but we still made it!"

"Bullshit," Avarice snapped. "There's no way you escaped King Juyon that easily. First of all-"

He was silenced as a meaty hand clapped down on his shoulder. "Now don't be interrupting the lass. Go on with your story."

"Get your hands off of me," he hissed at the offender, his fingers straying to his necklace.

"_As I was saying_," Lust said loudly, distracting them from any conflict that might have arisen. "We got out then went over to Autumn Isle. We went on the outside of that big ol' whirlpool, you know…"

"Nemu-" Another onlooker provided.

Lust waved the name aside. "Yeah, that one. Anyway, we spend one night, _one night_ there. Not even. We don't even get to catch a break before we find out that some mercs or other are after us on that very island. Captain does her thing, gathering info and whatnot, then we go off to Winter Isle using that whirlpool. It took us only twenty four hours or something like that!"

"That's not possible," Avarice cut in again. "That would mean you went close enough to the eye to get sucked in. Nobody can sail those waters unless they're a world-class navigator and helmsman."

"Wrath did it!" the storyteller insisted stubbornly. "So he's a world-class navigator and helmsman. He stood there for twenty whole hours, ignoring the freezing rain and-"

"He would have to have-"

"What part of shut the fuck up didn't you get?" the man growled. "Don't interrupt her again."

Avarice jabbed his elbow backwards, sending the other man reeling in pain. Getting up from his seat, he was about to deal the man another fierce blow when he found his arm engulfed in a large fist. "Think of where you are," Gluttony reminded him softly.

The elementalist jerked his arm free, scanning the weary onlookers. What little of his face that wasn't hidden by his cowl was tight with suppressed anger. Picking up his tray of food, he began stalking off, only to find himself face-to-face with the leader of the team. The cowgirl looked at him, then at his tray, then at the people watching them carefully. "Sit back down," she instructed, guiding him back to his seat. "We have some matters to discuss."

"But we wanna hear her finish her story!" a nearby rebel whined.

Pride's eyes flashed dangerously. "The end of the story is not yet written. Leave us be or your story will find its end more quickly than you expected."

The crowd bristled at this, but upon seeing battle-ready expressions on Gluttony, Pride and Avarice, they decided that their attention was better focused elsewhere. Satisfied with the dispersing mob, Pride turned back to her team and sat down in the empty seat. Gluttony immediately gave her a portion of his food, having collected a mountain of it for himself already. Nodding thankfully to him, Pride began to speak. "We need to go over the plans for the battle to come."

"Shouldn't we be talking about plans when everybody is here?" Avarice inquired. "Aren't you curious about Wrath's whereabouts?"

The cowgirl shook her head. "He'll find us when he wants to. Now, about the plans-"

"But why does he get to do whatever he wants?" Avarice protested, jeweled fingers clenching tightly into fists.

"Feel free to discuss your complaints with him at any time when I don't need you," Pride shot back. "In three days' time, we will be marching with Michael on the mansion. At this mansion are the most dangerous opponents involved with this conflict. I chose this for a variety of reasons. Firstly, I believe we have the fighting skill and power to deal with these enemies. If we must split up, and I sincerely hope this won't be the case, there are certain people I want paired up at all costs. Lust stays with Gluttony, Avarice with Sloth, Envy with me. Over the course of the next few days, I want the pairs to spend time with each other when we're not meeting as a team. Envy, I won't be around much, so just stick with the others if you can't find me.

"Secondly, if we didn't join Michael's group, we'd be stuck in R. Capital fighting peons. While we could easily deal with the soldiers, we would be wasting our potential. Furthermore, I can't speak for all of us, but my crew does need to improve their battle skills. Sending them against regular footsoldiers would leave little room for improvement. Since my crew and I are going to the Grand Line, we need to get as strong as possible before confronting it.

"Thirdly, there are motivations for all of us inside that mansion. The Reichmanns have everything from masterpieces to vaults to overflowing kitchens. When the battle is over, we will be undoubtedly given first pick when getting the loot from the mansion. I know General Taylor is a just man and will reward us for our efforts."

She paused to put a mouthful of chicken into her mouth. "This means that when we attack, we need to stick close to General Taylor. He and Sariputta will be near the middle of the pack, providing them the best opportunity to travel farthest into the mansion. I don't know the layout of the mansion, but I am willing to wager that my goal is among the deepest recesses of the place. Avarice and Gluttony, yours will probably be too.

"Are there any immediate concerns or worries that you have? If so, now would be a good time to voice them."

After a weighty pause, Envy raised his hand. "So when you say the toughest opponents, you mean…?"

"Some of the strongest people in West Blue," Pride elaborated for the effeminate man. "That's why I want us to be in pairs."

"What about Wrath?" Avarice persisted. "Why doesn't he have a pair?"

Pride regarded him with an even gaze. "Do you think you could beat him, even with whatever partner you chose?"

The elemenalist opened his mouth to respond, then shut it as he realized the reality of her statement. "He's not that strong."

"And I have one more trump card," Pride informed him. "If I really wanted it, Wrath would be dead. But if you don't believe me, feel free to challenge him or disobey my orders."

"Then why isn't he the leader if he's the strongest?" Envy piped up.

Sloth chuckled dryly, carefully wiping his mouth with the napkin tucked into his collar. "Mate, power isn't the same as leadership. Besides, Captain's a great fighter by herself. Wrath excluded, she could beat any of us in a fight."

"Of course she can," Avarice scoffed. "She has guns. We need to get close enough to her and by that time, she has us beat."

Pride rolled her eyes. Truth be told, she wasn't surprised at Avarice's protests. Knowing there was only one way to quiet him down, she looked him directly in the eyes and said in a completely serious tone, "I am going to attack you now."

The hooded man put his hand to his neck in a flash, but Pride was faster. She had cleared the table and landed behind him in one fluid movement. Her gloved hand tightly gripped his throat while her other held a knife a hairsbreadth from his left eye. Even though she couldn't see him, she knew surprise was clearly written on his face. "How come I can't use my Devil Fruit?" he asked.

"Trade secret," she droned neutrally, resheathing her knife and walking calmly back to her seat. "You can't beat me, Avarice. The one who would be the hardest to deal with would be Gluttony, but even he couldn't beat me. Anyway, let's go back to any concerns you have. Are there any that don't have to do with me or Wrath?"

"When you say trump card…" Avarice trailed off.

"Trump card as in 'something I could do that would result in the death of anything I want' trump card," Pride snapped. "Anything regarding the attack three days from now?"

Silence.

"Very well. We have our own quarters as a team, Room 712. Ask any person who looks official where that is. If you're going to sleep, do it there. I don't want anybody wandering R. Capital after dark. To be honest, I'm not thrilled about daytime either, but it's a lot safer then. If there is nothing else, I'll be taking my meal to our room."

The rest of the team watched in silence as their leader departed. Almost immediately afterwards, other rebels began trickling back to their table, food in hand. Gluttony eyed them carefully as they approached, checking for threats against the team and his pile of food. Soon enough, the reason for the group was summarized in one tentative question. "So what happened after Autumn Isle?"

* * *

Man, when Cassandra means business, she means _business._


	49. Clothes and Fights

for the long wait. My writing beta reviewed the chapter and gave me feedback, but sadly that file was lost. I did my best to remember the corrections, but I can't guarantee that I'll catch all of them on my own.

On the plus side, fifty chapters! I didn't think the story would last this long.

* * *

"Ooh, ooh, ooh!" Lust chirped, bouncing excitedly on her vantage point. "Let's go there! Look, they have ice cream!"

Gluttony couldn't help but grin at the woman sitting comfortably on his right shoulder. No matter the situation, her cheer and childishness were inexorably infectious. Having just left the rebel base after being repeatedly admonished by Pride to be cautious and wary, he had assumed the first mate would be at least slightly more downhearted with all the restrictions piled onto her. But it seemed that nothing could restrain her boundless enthusiasm, especially if it meant doing something fascinating.

It also amused him to no end that she could find anything, even something so small most others wouldn't even give it a passing glance, and find it completely fascinating. She viewed everything with an air of juvenile innocence that marked her apart from her crewmembers. He wanted to know more about them and as her captain had clammed up after her outburst on the _Howling Knave_, the first mate was the easiest person to ask.

Unaware of his musings, Lust hopped off his shoulders and landed lithely in front of the ice cream parlor. Her eyes sparkled with joy as she read the expansive menu, marveling at the variety in flavors. "I want that rainbow-colored one and that cake-looking one and that cotton candy-shaped one and what do you want?"

Gluttony looked at her in surprise, taken aback by the abrupt change in focus. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Liiiiiiar," Lust admonished. "You gotta have something you want!"

"If you insist…" he trailed off as he regarded the different flavors. "I'll have the green tea-"

"He'll have that Rocky Road one in the biggest size you have," Lust cut in. "And I want mine all in different cones!"

The massive man couldn't help but chuckle. Not only was she cheerful, she went after anything she wanted with a fiercely strong determination. As he gratefully accepted the frozen treat, he lifted her back onto his shoulder so they could continue walking. He opened his mouth to remind her of something, but she beat him to it.

"Don't forget to take the pills Raven gave us!" she whispered into his ear. "We don't wanna die from poison!"

They both had taken one pill before leaving the underground base, but the black-clad doctor had insisted they take another before consuming any meal. Even before breakfast that morning and dinner the day before, she had appeared to provide them with a chemical agent designed to counter the addictive drugs in the Reichmann Island food. Gluttony agreed with taking them even with the food the rebels had provided; after all, there was no telling where the food had come from. It was likely stolen from one of the Reichmann stores, so it still might be laced with the drugs. In the end, better safe than sorry.

What amused him was that the artist had remembered. While the reason Raven had given her wasn't entirely accurate, it had evidently done the trick of convincing Lust to take the pills. It had apparently sparked some inner need to protect herself and those around her. Yet another reason why Gluttony found her so interesting.

Obliging his companion, he popped the capsule into his mouth and swallowed it with ease. In order to accommodate his size, his pills were each the size of a normal man's fist. Lust loved watching him do that, or anything for that matter. His sheer size provided her with limitless amazement and curiosity. She had been even more amazed when he mentioned another astonishing fact about his size. "Some Winter Isle families have a peculiar genetic mutation for perpetual growth," he informed her. "Until we die, we just keep slowly getting bigger."

At the moment, his mass was drawing no small amount of attention to himself and his passenger. Reichmann Isle residents stared with open awe as the enormous bandit lumbered slowly through the streets. His strides easily made three of theirs and he moved with all the grace of a deadly warrior. His eyes roved from side to side, watching for suspicious activity. However, his concentration was inevitably broken as his friend began speaking again.

"We need clothes for the fight!" Lust declared, having practically inhaled her cake-flavored ice cream and making serious headway on the cotton candy one. "Not just you and me, but everyone. You need new ones too, though."

Gluttony glanced down at his simple clothing. "I am going to be clad in my armor," he reminded her. "What I wear underneath doesn't matter."

"But of course it matters!" Lust stated matter-of-factly. "Captain said we're going against some super-strong people! You gotta be prepared to look good if your armor gets torn off or something!"

"Fighting is not about looking good," he told her. "It is about subduing your opponent to avoid harm befalling your allies."

"But there's no reason you can't look good doing it!" she insisted. "Take Avarice, for example. He dresses like a king, which perfectly represents his name, and he doesn't wear any armor!"

Gluttony sighed loudly. "He's a Devil Fruit user. They are exceptions."

Lust continued on undeterred. "And Captain has that whole cowgirl thing going for her, though she could use some spicing up too. Sloth likes his suit, so there's not much I can say about that, except for maybe a couple improvements and-"

"Whoa there," he chortled. "Exactly who are we shopping for?"

"Everybody," Lust asserted. "Except for Avarice, who is already dressed up."

"Fine then." Gluttony finished off his ice cream and looked around for some sort of waste disposal unit. "Who shall we start with?"

The first mate put a finger to her lips, staring pensively off into space. "Why not start from the top? I'm talking about Captain. So, Captain wears all that clothing and I think she needs to lighten up a tad."

Realizing that he was going to get nowhere no matter how much he protested, Gluttony decided to play along. "Well, she wears what she does for a reason, obviously. I'm guessing you don't want to change the overall theme."

"I mean, I could go with that shady outfit she hides in her closet," Lust commented, clearly happy that he was going along with her. "But yeah, I think we should stick with the cowgirl thing. So. She obviously needs to keep the hat and the boots. She has four pistols on her waist, two knives in shoulder things, two knives in her boots and a huge freaking rifle on her back. Where can we go from there?"

Gluttony rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his index finger tracing the bottom of his facial scar. "I don't think she'll want to wear a skirt. What's her opinion on shorts?"

"We have to stick with jeans, I think," Lust said unhappily. Her face lit up as she thought of a new idea. "But we can get one with cool designs on it! Oh, one of those cloak-coat type things! You know, it kinda looks like a cape, only slightly shorter, but not one for cold weather! Captain would love that! It has pockets and it shouldn't get in the way if it's light enough!"

"To replace her black shirt," Gluttony reasoned. "I assume you want to modify her T-shirt as well."

"But of course!" Lyn told him, as if he had pointed out that the sun was hot. "Something more revealing! She doesn't show enough skin!"

"Some might say she's being modest," the larger man rumbled.

Lust scoffed at this. "Oh please. I'm picturing either some sort of halter top or crop top. Can you remember everything we're going to be needing?"

"I guess," Gluttony responded. "So all we've decided on for Pride is a change of shirts and new pants."

"Yup!" Lust decided that this alteration was enough and immediately moved to her next target. "The next easiest is gonna be Wrath. He's gonna rip apart or incinerate anything we put on him. But there's one thing we can give him that would be totally awesome!"

Gluttony waited for a moment, then realized she expected him to ask her. "And that would be?"

"An arm guard," Lust announced. "You know, like your armor, only for just his left arm."

"Left arm?" he repeated. "Isn't that his dead arm?"

"Well, duh! He's been using it to block attacks, so why not give it another coating of armor?"

Gluttony couldn't find fault in her reasoning. Normally, any attempt to clad him in any sort of protective gear would be useless. Leather would simply burn off and metal would at the very least become soft enough to part like butter under the first blow from a decent opponent. Encasing the only part of his body unreachable by flames in metal wouldn't be unreasonable and if spikes or some sort of other weapon were added, his arm would become even more deadly. "Speaking of which, how do his pants stay on?"

"Magic," Lust supposed. "So he has an arm guard. Sloth is going to be a problem. No matter what I tell him, he's not gonna change out of his stupid suit!"

The massive bandit shrugged, nearly dislodging his friend from her perch. "Well, his fighting style doesn't exactly require a lot of movement. There's no reason you need to change it now."

Lust huffed and folded her arms childishly. "Fine. We'll just get a nightcap and a better tie for him then. Last of the ones not among us, Envy." Lengthy pause. "Wait, what does Envy want to wear?"

"I have no idea," Gluttony answered honestly.

"Are you kidding me?" Lust protested, bending around so she could look him in the eyes. "You were straight up interrogating him yesterday!"

"That was for something else," Gluttony dismissed, rubbing the back of his head. "I didn't get to know him as a person, really. Didn't Pride say that he would be accompanying us at some point?"

The artist sighed. "Well he's not here now, so there's no point worrying about it. So! That leaves you and me! Now, what are we going to do with you?"

"I told you, I'm fine," Gluttony assured her. "I'm going to go get my armor tomorrow and have it ready by the day after."

"But what if you go against someone really super strong?" Lust complained. "You're gonna have to look intimidating even without your armor!"

Gluttony was about to respond when her eyes fairly filled with happiness and her radiant smile burst across her face. Knowing that she had just come up with some idea, he groaned loudly. "What is it?"

"Tattoos!" she shouted triumphantly, undeniably pleased with herself. "We could get tattoos!"

"I think we're stretching it as it is with the clothing adjustments," Gluttony informed her. "We're definitely going to need to consult them first if you want them to get tattoos." His heart sank as she visibly deflated, slumping down against his head. "But there's no reason you should give up hope," he amended hastily.

"You think?"

The massive man grinned at the hope shining in her electric blue eyes. "Definitely. Tell you what, we'll stop by an art store and get some supplies so that you can design the tattoos for them. How does that sound?"

"Oh! Yeah! Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you!" she shouted as she seized his cranium in a tight grip.

"Okay, okay!" he laughed, not daring to move his head lest he accidentally throw her off. "I got it. No need to thank me that much. It was just an idea."

She released her fierce hug and adopted a more business-like expression. "But stop trying to avoid the point. We still need to do something for you. You can't be wearing just that!"

Frowning, Gluttony looked down at his simple clothing. "And what's wrong with what I'm wearing now?"

"_Everything!_" Lust emphasized her statement by swinging her arms up and down. "It's so boring! You need flair! Intimidation! Sheer kickassness! Nobody's gonna look at you and think 'Spirits of saints, the hundrum bum is coming! Run for your lives!' in panic! They're gonna be thinking 'Wow, this guy is so lame, I should put him out of his misery!'"

"Ouch," the bandit chuckled. "I certainly don't want that."

"Exactly," Lust said matter-of-factly. "So what do you want? This is a test to see if you can truly come up with something more awesome than this boring brown clothing."

He briefly glanced at her, debating on whether or not to inform her of the clothing he was supposed to wear underneath his armor. "Well," he mumbled after a while. "Armor isn't comfortable, you know. I can't just wear whatever I want underneath. There's padding, chainmail and-"

"Well, then let's hear some ideas about spicing those up!" Lust really wasn't going to back down from her decision. "You gotta give me something!"

Gluttony sighed and rubbed his close-cut hair. "How about I think of something and surprise you?"

Lust pursed her lips cutely. "Are you sure you'll do it? You're not just saying that so I'll stop?"

"I swear I'll think of something and surprise you when we begin the attack," Gluttony mumbled.

"Swear on the most sacred thing to you!" Lust instructed.

"What?" Gluttony raised his eyebrows. "About this?"

"Swear!" the artist insisted.

The bandit's face turned deadly serious, his features as if carved from stone. "I swear on the White Mountain of Winter Isle, the stone of my fathers, the tomb of my ancestors, the memory of my people, the protector of all bandits."

Much to his surprise, Lust looked as solemn as he did, nodding gently to herself. He was about to ask about her sudden change in demeanor when she answered his silent question. "Okay. Everyone should have something sacred they can honestly swear to. You know you can trust someone if they have something like that, something you know they wouldn't ever dare defile. I just wanted to know yours."

"I see." This made sense, which, while such moments were not uncommon to the first mate, caused him to grin slightly. "And what, may I ask, is yours?"

"The holy spirits," she told him after a short pause. "The kindest saints. The lives of the best doctor, the best musician, the best navigator and the best captain I know!"

"They are indeed people to be treasured," Gluttony murmured, suddenly wanting to see her with a smile on her face again. "But let's go back to you. You undoubtedly have some change in costume in mind."

Sure enough, the artist's face erupted into a brilliantly radiant grin. "Of course there's something! Look at that!"

He followed her finger, a sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw the mannequins in the shop window. "Please tell me you're joking."

"No!" she shouted, gesturing madly. "I want to go there!"

"You know that's an S&M shop, right?" he clarified.

"What's S&M?" she asked innocently.

He let out an almighty groan as he rubbed the back of his neck. _Cassandra is going to kill me…_

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Wrath was pissed.

No, more than pissed. Wrath was fucking furious.

No matter what he did, he couldn't calm down. He couldn't stand the fact that some people had more than the nerve to say they were more powerful than he was. He was throwing everything he had into proven them wrong. No less than fifty corpses lay strewn around him, each more mutilated than the last. Blood covered the floor and walls with large splashes, either flung from his claws or from the velocity with which the bodies had struck the metal plates.

It hadn't been too bad at first. The ones most easily goaded also turned out to be the ones most easily dispatched. A few well-placed punches and kicks were enough to knock them unconscious. His warrior blood was flowing strong, but he was still relatively calm. Even with their weapons, they hadn't managed to even lay a finger on him. He was surprised at his own agility; clearly, sparring with the crew's doctor on a near-daily basis had upped his reflexes considerably.

The turning point came when he had crushed another man's windpipe with a backwards elbow strike. The rebel officers, who had been sitting by the sidelines viewing the fight as a mere brawl, had stepped in to intervene. From there, all it had taken was one more punch to his immobile arm for things to go completely to hell. Well, not for Wrath. Wrath was in his element. He was good and angry.

His claws had come out not long after that, his wings following soon behind. His flames, restrained for as long as possible, had erupted so violently that his would-be attackers were launched screaming through the air. Soon, the reinforcements were forced to deal with the leavings of his brutal slaughter. As they approached him, they were forced to stumble over dismembered limbs, to slip in splattered viscera, to avoid corpseless heads and headless corpses. More than one man came into the room in an effort to subdue him, only to re-exit a moment later vomiting up whatever rations he had consumed. Wrath, for his part, was regaining bits of energy from whatever mouthful of flesh he could rip from his adversaries. He was going strong and showed no signs of stopping.

He had scythed through twenty or so officials before the rebels had pulled out the big guns. Metaphorically. He was now locked in combat with a man not much taller than he was wielding a nine-foot katana with unbelievable proficiency. The pair had been locked in combat until time seemed like a troublesome trifle, each putting their all into defeating the other. Wrath had long moved past the point where his mind could process his movements and his tongue could pronounce his attacks. He was locked in an animalistic rage, a dance with death where one slip-up had irrevocable consequences.

Roaring loudly, he deflected the sword with the tips of his claws, torquing his body to send his other arm flying at the other man's body. The swordsman easily ducked the blow, drawing his sword backwards to a swift lunge. Wrath exhaled a burst of fire, causing his adversary to retreat slightly farther. He threw himself forward, his razor-sharp teeth aimed at the man's jugular.

But the swordsman was no average fighter. Jabbing the tip of his sword at the ground, he launched into the air, easily avoiding Wrath's wicked fangs. Spinning about, he barely left a mark on the smooth metal floor as tip slashed along the ground and he brought the sword up. The blade flashed through the air in a large circle, coming down on Wrath's protected back. Metal grated on metal and sparks were sent mingling among the flames. Flexing his wings hard, Wrath pushed the blade aside, leaping into the air to join his opponent.

Unfortunately, the swordsman was already dropping towards the ground. Landing in a solid stance, he jabbed his sword upward, catching the edge of Wrath's face. The pirate's anger continued to build as he felt his blood run down his cheek. For every hit he landed on his enemy, he received three in return. For every drop of blood the swordsman lost, he lost an entire splash. As much as he hated to admit it, he was losing this fight. That was unacceptable.

However, he wasn't losing by too wide a margin. Even through the blood tainting his vision red, he could see that the swordsman was not faring too well. He was panting for breath, having been using all of his strength and agility to avoid being torn to shreds. If there was one thing Wrath knew he excelled at, something that he possessed more of than anyone else he knew, he could continue fighting until his opponent was defeated. He had faced many enemies more powerful than himself, but his durability and endurance knew no bounds. He would win, even if it cost him his life.

But even with that fact, he couldn't deny that his muscles were screaming in protest. As he plummeted earthwards, he spread his limbs wide apart. The swordsman hop-skipped back to avoid the falling pirate, his sword still held between the two fighters. Wrath kicked hard as he landed, flying towards his target. The rebel hesitated a split second before moving, which ended up costing him dearly. While he did bring his sword around in time to twist the navigator around, he was still knocked head over heels by a kick to the head.

Fortunately for him, the berserker's foot was angled so only the top connected. Obviously, both fighters were getting tired. At the beginning of the fight, the swordsman would have dodged the blow with ease. At the beginning of the fight, Wrath would have angled his toes to impact claws-first. As it was, the swordsman spat out a broken tooth as he rose, gripping his sword tightly.

"This is enough," he gasped. He slowly sheathed his sword, bending his knees for stability. Spinning the scabbard around until it was almost vertical, he closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. Wrath charged across the room, uninterested in whatever attack was coming. However, he was completely unprepared for what happened next.

With a cry of "Iai: Kami no Chikara!" the swordsman hit. In one smooth movement, he unsheathed his katana, attacked and resheathed it, reappearing in the same stance on the far side of the room. Wrath's face contorted with pain as a large gash appeared across his chest, accompanied by a large spray of blood. The swordsman gave a wry grin, before adopting a confused expression. Four slashes carved through his torso, crimson stains spreading rapidly though his blue clothing.

Had he been facing almost any other pirate, the swordsman's strike would have been successful. However, what he didn't know is that his adversary had been fighting a woman who could race a lightning bolt. Wrath's arm slowly fell to his side and his lips curled back in a wicked grin. For the first time, blood that wasn't his own dripped from the tips of his claws. Turning about, he showed the swordsman his massive fangs, completely ignoring his new wound. His elation with actually landing a decent blow refilled his muscles with energy and his heart began racing even faster.

The swordsman ripped his shirt off, using it to hastily bandage his wounds. Twisting his body to make sure he could still move, he unsheathed his sword and held it like a baseball bat. Wrath, unwilling to let his opponent have even a moment of recovery, was already hurtling across the room. But he was promptly met with a blast of compressed air, stopping him in his tracks. While he had managed to twist his body and place a metal wing between him and the attack, a deep crescent appeared on part of his chest. His wings were up in time to prevent the subsequent barrage of attacks, but he couldn't move forward under the immense pressure. His good mood was vanishing rapidly as he struggled to put even a single foot forward.

Growling angrily, he twisted to the side and tried to advance again. However, the swordsman was not willing to let him approach any farther. His flames began to rage more and more violently as he tried to move forward. His metal wings rippled as they were continuously bombarded, the thick fibers unyielding despite the sharp attacks. Roaring at the effort, he took a step forward, then another. During his third step, his unprotected shin was cut, sending him stumbling to a stop once more.

The flames surrounding him started to coalesce as the room slowly filled with a swirling darkness. Having grown used to seeing the beginning of the attack and never desiring to see it completed, the swordsman moved in closer to prevent it once more. Sure enough, Wrath remained unresponsive enough to have the butt of the sword and the end of the scabbard crash into his temples in a powerful scissor attack. The strike sent tremors reverberating through the navigator, emitting a deep ringing sound. Wrath's eyes slowly rolled up into his head and he began to waver back and forth. Breathing rapidly from sheer exertion, the swordsman turned around and began slowly limping towards the door. As far as he was concerned, his job was done.

Or so he thought. The instant the floor shook, he whirled around, staring at the bloody man in disbelief. Wrath stomped his other foot down just as hard, regaining his wavering balance. His head lolled to the side as he glared at the swordsman through half-lidded eyes. His flames began diminishing and expanding in slow pulses, though the swordsman had no idea what that meant. He gripped his sword with weary fingers and was about to attack once more when something unexpected happened.

Wrath vanished from his line of sight.

He barely had time to bring up his katana when a set of flaming claws came careening at his head from behind. The swordsman began skipping quickly backwards, desperately parrying the inhumanly rapid onset of blows. Before, the flaming pirate had been slightly more tactful, dodging attacks and deflecting blows. Somehow he had grown significantly faster and stronger in an extremely short period of time and the entirety of this newfound power was poured into offense instead of partitioning some for his own defense. This wasn't good in the least.

The swordsman was so busy deflecting lethal attacks that he barely noticed a newcomer join the fray. While Wrath had smashed all the lamps in the room long ago and the torches had been extinguished by the gouts of blood, his flames had made him an easy target despite the oppressive darkness. However, there seemed to be a shadow of a person between himself and the unstoppable berserker, one which either hadn't been there before or was just now becoming visible by contrast against the bright yellow flames.

Confused, he manage to find an opportunity to strike at the shadow, but it seemed to be just that: an absence of light. Wrath's attacks were certainly going through it like it wasn't there, but his body was becoming laced with scratches that the swordsman was absolutely positive he wasn't the cause of. Whatever was going on, Wrath was slowing down.

His bewilderment reached its peak when the room was shaken with a loud retort. Wrath's head was jerked violently to the side, the rest of his body following closely behind. He tumbled to the ground with the force of an avalanche, collapsing into a big messy heap. The swordsman still held his sword at the ready, unwilling to be taken by surprise a second time. His tired senses barely registered the presence of another person in the room, probably the cause of the abrupt end. He slowly turned his head to the side, gazing over at the doorway to the sparring hall.

The amazed crowd gathering outside the doors didn't surprise him in the least. What did surprise him was the thin woman standing a few feet inside the room, her smoking rifle still extended. Ejecting the spent bullet cartridge onto the floor and holstering her weapon, which he faintly observed as being nearly as long as she was tall, she strode fearlessly over to the fallen pirate and crouched down beside him. The berserker, who everybody had presumed to have finally been defeated, acknowledged her appearance with a loud growl and slowly began pushing himself to his hands and knees.

"Step… aside," the swordsman gasped, raising his sword above his head.

He blinked his eyes as he found himself staring down the barrel of a silvery pistol. Ignoring him completely, the woman looked into the eyes of the downed juggernaut and murmured soothingly, "That's enough, Wrath. Calm down now."

"And… who might you be?" the swordsman managed between gasps for breath, leveling his sword at her.

"One of the rebels taking an interest in this fight," the intruder said neutrally. "What's your name?"

"My name… is Deus," the swordsman told her. "You never… told me yours."

Nodding to indicate she had heard, she tuned him out in favor of addressing her comrade. "Mors, did he go to work on you. Though I'm impressed. I didn't think you'd be able to make it against an actual swordsman of his caliber. He's definitely one of the top five fighters in this army and if we hadn't interfered, you probably would have won."

"Oi," Deus protested, sheathing his katana with some degree of difficulty. "Forget… him for a moment. I asked you… your name."

Still resolutely ignoring him, she began wiping blood from his face with her gloved hand. "I can't even imagine how you're feeling right now. Are you even conscious?"

She barely flinched when his sharp fangs penetrated the black leather, sinking into her flesh. "Easy, Damien, easy. It's me, it's your captain. I'm here. Just calm down. Let go and we can move on from there."

Deus frowned at this, using his long sword sheath to hobble over to them. "Are you… serious? You're… his captain… and he's ready… to bite your hand in half!"

The cowgirl glanced over her shoulder. "You should get your wounds checked out before you bleed to death."

"What the hell… is wrong with you?" the swordsman inquired, limping over to her. "Daemon's… psychotic!"

"No, his name is Damien," the woman corrected. "That's his name. If he could think long enough to form a coherent thought, he'd want one of his rivals to know. It's not often he find someone who can fight him on an equal level."

Deus gave a weary grin. "Well, my real name's… Deus too. It just so happens… that my name… has vaguely… religious… connections. And… wait, that's not… the problem! He's about… to bite your hand off!"

The cowgirl glanced at the blood trickling off her elbow, mingling with the copious amount already on the floor. "Captain's Orders, Damien. Let go. Now."

The swordsman watched with disbelief as the dazed navigator obligingly opened his mouth, allowing her to extract her hand. "Please don't tell me… you're left-handed."

"Largely ambidextrous," she said casually, pain clearly etched on her face as she inspected her injured hand. "Favored left hand, though. Shouldn't be a problem."

"Shouldn't… be a problem?" he repeated disbelievingly. "You-"

"Shut up!" she interrupted, shocking him into silence. "If you'll be able to deal with the Albino Panther, I'll be able to fight normally. Now unless you have other matters…"

Deus frowned. "Albino… Panther?"

"Okay, sit down and stop talking so you can catch your breath," the cowgirl instructed. Reluctantly, the swordsman complied. "Now, as you know, we're attacking the Reichmanns tomorrow."

Here, he couldn't help but interject. "Tomorrow? But I thought…"

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Yes, tomorrow. How long do you think you've been fighting?"

"Dunno… a few hours?"

"You and Wrath have been at it for almost a day," she stated. "Well, maybe not you, but Damien has since breakfast yesterday. In about thirty hours, we're going to be launching the attack. Now, just nod if you're from North Blue." Surprised at her information, he nodded. "That means you and another are going to be joining General Taylor in the raid on the mansion. Now, if you're too injured-"

"Thirty hours…" he muttered. "I will be fine… by then."

"Still, better safe than sorry," the cowgirl told him. "As I was saying, if you think you can recover from the injuries Damien gave you in thirty hours, I will be more than ready to fight in the same amount of time. If you do not believe me, find me when we begin the attack. As it is, what do you think you'll do now?"

Deus, for his part, did nothing. She snapped her fingers before his eyes, only receiving the barest of responses in turn. Sighing to herself, she lightly pushed him over with a single finger, watching dispassionately as he fell limply to the floor. Damien followed shortly after, satisfied that his enemy's muscles had given way before his had. Obviously, fighting for hours and hours on end took its belated toll on them. The cowgirl slowly ambled out of the room, resolving to check up on them once they awoke. At the door, she paused and looked back to the semi-conscious swordsman. "Pride," she said at last. "My name is Pride."

* * *

I had a great deal of fun with Wrath's part. It's like a taste of the battle to come.


	50. Devils and Questions

And now for the other half of the team. I'm beginning to miss calling the pirates by their actual names, but at least I don't have that problem with Avarice and Envy. Same thing as last chapter, betad file lost, did my best on this one.

* * *

Sloth sighed as he ambled down the corridor. His captain had instructed him and his partner to go to a specific room for an unknown reason, which had distracted him from the game of go he was playing with a fellow rebel. But he knew better than to question her orders, no matter how irregular or sudden they were. At first, it had only been because she was his captain in title, but now she was truly the leader of the crew.

He glanced to the side, eyeing Avarice warily. Despite having spent multiple days hanging around the man, Sloth had never seen his face. The purple-clad rebel never removed his cowl or gave any hints about his identity or his backstory. He seemed simply content with waiting for the attack and his consequent paycheck. His copious amounts of jewelry clinked lightly together as he walked, but the man himself remained as they went.

The musician turned his eyes away and frowned, realizing he didn't know where they were. Looking around, he quickly found a nearby rebel officer and approached him. "Excuse me, sir, could you tell me where Room 666 is?"

"Room 666, eh?" the officer repeated with a knowing grin. "You're part of that lot, then. You're on the right track, though you were about to start going in the wrong direction. Go to your right and keep walking until you see a stairwell on the right-hand side. Go up it two levels, then turn left. It should be at the end of that hall."

Sloth thanked him kindly and began following his instructions. Avarice calmly walked behind him, the gold lining of his clothes glittering in the lamplight. He simply ignored any attempt at conversation, so Sloth had given up long ago. There was something about him that the pirate didn't like, but he felt that being too prejudiced was being unfair. Avarice had proved himself to be more than a competent fighter. Sloth only hoped that his titular sin didn't get the best of him.

After a few minutes of walking, they arrived at the aforementioned room. The number 666 was stamped in ominous red letters on the metal plaque and the few rebels in the corridor eyed the door with trepidation. Sloth hesitated for a moment, but Avarice pushed by him and grasped the door handle tightly. He tried to turn it, but it refused to budge. He was about to put even more force into his wrist when he released the handle sharply, falling backwards a step.

"What's the matter?" Sloth asked curiously.

Avarice's attention was focused on the doorknob. "It's made of seastone. Why would Pride send us here?"

"There has to be a reason for it," Sloth muttered. "I don't think she would just send us on a wild goose chase."

"I wouldn't be so sure…" Avarice began prodding other areas of the door, but found that save for the handle, the rest was composed of simple metal. His mouth widening into a vicious smile, he put his right hand flat on the door and opened his mouth to say something.

Much to his surprise, the door began to swing open of its own accord. The two partners peered inside, seeing that someone was behind the entrance, glancing about furtively. Upon seeing the pair, the person beckoned them inside, his face lit up excitedly. Avarice glanced at Sloth, who shrugged and entered the doorway. His fingers never left his trumpet, though. It was unwise to be too careless.

The room was actually fairly comfortable despite the blood red door number. Extravagant carpets littered the floor and the walls were covered in a rich blue cloth. Large sofas were scattered about, a couple of them bearing a reclining rebel. Every person in the room turned to ogle the newcomers with either interest or suspicion in their eyes.

Sloth cleared his throat and began to speak. "I was sent here by my team leader. What is the purpose of this gathering?"

The rebel who had opened the door looked more than pleased to answer his request. "666 is the number of the devil," he explained. "So Room 666 is where the Devil Fruit users gather."

Avarice's mouth curved into a sardonic smirk. "So this is the extent of the Devil Fruit users in this army? The six of us?"

"Devil Fruit users are rare," the doorman protested. "It's amazing that we even have six of us here."

"That is true," Sloth reasoned. "In fact, this is the second time I've met other DF users since I became one. But why was the door handle made of seastone?"

"It's a small test," said the doorman. "If you can open the door, you can't be here. Bit stupid, but Michael insisted. The inside handle isn't seastone."

Sloth didn't entirely like the explanation, but let it slide. "I'm curious; what fruits have you eaten?"

"I ate the Ushi Ushi no Mi: Model Moose!" a small girl piped up exuberantly, bounding out of her lounger and over to the newcomers. If not for the fact that she was in the army, she would have passed for a young schoolgirl. Her braided blonde hair trailed behind her, long enough to rustle the edge of her shirt. Her sailor uniform was crisp and neat, fitting her diminutive form perfectly. "I'm Io!"

"Naga," a lanky man snarled, baring his teeth. This man was the polar opposite of the apparently-harmless Io. He stood a head and a half taller than Avarice and every inch of his body rippled with thick muscles. His voluminous sea green hair was flung back in large spikes, giving him an even more wild appearance. He held a large trident with practiced ease and his flat blue eyes surveyed them unconcernedly. "Hebi Hebi no Mi: Model Sssssidewinder."

"I'm Kotel, eater of the Tate Tate no Mi. Shield Woman, if you want to know." The plump woman had the air of a princess around her. Her frilly lavender dress rolled from her body in light waves, almost floating on their own. She did not move from where she was reclined, instead regarding them with curious gazes. Her sparkling green eyes held Avarice for a touch longer, roving over the massive amount of jewelry the rebel wore.

"And I am Bhavacakra," the doorman finished. He was dressed as if ready to run a marathon, his sleeveless white shirt clinging tightly to his body. He was built like a runner and the way his hair was in disarray as if having faced fierce winds gave him the appearance of having just sprinted extremely quickly over quite some distance. "Shari Shari no Mi, a Wheel Man."

The two newcomers exchanged neutral glances. Two Zoan fruits and two Paramecia weren't exactly going to impress the Reichmanns. Even with the addition of two more Paramecia, they weren't much of a special Devil Fruit force. Besides, just because one ate a Devil Fruit didn't mean one was automatically a better fighter than everyone else. While Logia fruits were probably the exception to that, as the near-invulnerability granted to them was enough to conquer even some of the more powerful combatants, there were still people without Devil Fruit abilities who were even better fighters than this motley crew.

"Well?" Bhavacakra prompted. "What about you two?"

"I am Sloth, consumer of the Kae Kae no Mi. This is Avarice, consumer of the… Maki Maki no Mi?" The musician couldn't quite remember what the elementalist had been shouting during his spar with Wrath and Gluttony, but that sounded right. When Avarice confirmed it with a single nod, Sloth resumed staring at the man by the door. "And what exactly do you propose to do with the six of us?"

The Wheel Man looked eager to describe his task. "Well, some of us are part of teams and some of us are alone. Regardless, we should all go with Michael to attack the mansion directly. As DF users, we are obliged to help those without powers. Forgive me, but I'm not quite familiar with your particular powers. What exactly can your fruits do?"

Sloth scanned his surroundings, eventually settling on a nearby couch. Strolling over and picking up a pillow, he muttered a swift "Pierre Magie" and turned it to stone. Disregarding the surprised looks, he hefted it to test its weight and managed to heave it over to his partner. Avarice snatched the pillow out of midair and gripped it tightly. "Maki Maki no Ishi."

The other Devil Fruit users watched as the stone slowly surrounded him, looking for all the world like a statue crumbling in reverse. As he flexed to flesh out his features, Bhavacakra whistled in admiration while Io clapped happily. "I can wrap myself in various elements. The more of the element there is to use, the bigger I can get. I only need a small piece to grow a normal layer, though."

Sloth looked up at him. "You didn't tell me that."

"Well, it does." The richly-clad man sniffed haughtily. "Now, who here is the most powerful one?"

Naga pushed off the wall with his shoulders, still watching them with his predatory eyes. "That would be me, Avarisssssss. Tell me, do you wisssh to tesssssst me?"

The elementalist barely had time to nod before Naga was upon him, thick scaly coils wrapped tightly around his stone torso. He stumbled back and fell with a crash, the Zoan's trident held threateningly above his head. But Avarice did not cease. His rock hands came together in a great clash, very nearly catching Naga off-guard. The war-like rebel swiftly slithered around and actually did jab deep into the elemental with his weapon. For a moment, nobody moved.

Avarice had evidently moved himself to the bottom of his stone body, for he shed it with a burst of gravel and skidded out of Naga's reach. Putting a hand to his necklace, he shouted "Maki Maki no Tsuru!" as he ducked under another fierce jab. Green vines as thick as rigging ropes began twist around his arms and legs, soon half again their original length. Like his water form, he seemed to gain no girth from this element, instead simply extending his body slightly.

"Ssshadowssssssss of Azssshara!" Naga snarled softly. He began twisting his human half from side to side, looking like he was unsuccessfully trying to turn around. However, his bottom snake half began swiftly hopping sideways, moving so fast he left an after-image of himself behind. He did this again, then a third time. There were soon copies of the Zoan all over the room. Furniture in the way was pushed aside violently to break upon the walls and shower the onlookers with large missiles of wood and fabric.

But if the elementalist was shocked or nervous, he didn't show it. He calmly reached over and grabbed the largest object in the room, one of the few remaining couches. His viny arm extended twice its length to reach it and tendrils crept around the sofa in a secure grip. Torquing his body, the arm whipped around, the end flying towards one of the images. Naga raised his trident to meet the blow, intent on smashing it with a single swipe.

Quite suddenly, Kotel was between them. So committed were Naga and Avarice to their attacks that it seemed impossible to avoid hitting the voluptuous interrupter. Sloth blinked in surprise as two large shields appeared in midair half a foot away from her, ringing like gongs as they stopped the two attacks. The one blocking Avarice's couch was a robust steel buckler while Naga's was a tower shield that extended almost to the floor. When the reverberations had ceased, the two shields winked out of existence and Kotel frowned disapprovingly at the pair of them.

"Out of the way, woman," Avarice spat from somewhere in his elemental. Naga was nodding with much the same thought in mind, but the princess would have none of it.

"You two will behave," she ordered angrily. "We just got all this furniture back after last time and you two go around bashing it all up just to see who has more hair on their chest! Absurd behavior from such strapping men, doubly so for you Naga! How can you be expected to lead a charge when you act so irresponsibly?"

"What happened last time?" Sloth muttered quickly.

"Io was chasing me around the room," Bhavacakra whispered back. "Trashed it even worse."

Naga was unfazed by the scoldings, but did revert back to his full human form to appear less like he wanted to swallow her whole. "Do not lecture me, Kotel. I wasssss merely tesssting his ssssstrength."

"You were ready to kill each other!" she squawked.

"Strength cannot be tested without putting everything into it," Avarice instructed, vines falling to the floor in long loops and fading into nothingness. "We both know our own limits."

The Snake Zoan nodded slowly. "And how elsssse are we to tessssst the limitsss of the other?"

Kotel threw up her hands angrily and settled one of the only intact recliners, picking up her fan and opening it with a furious snap. "Men!"

"Now, now," Bhavacakra interjected. "Both arguments have merits. We need to know exactly what Avarice can do so there won't be any surprises tomorrow and he needed to know how strong Naga is. But Kotel is right; there are better places to do so. The dueling rooms specifically designed for this purpose, for example. If you two still need to fight, I'm sure we can find an empty one."

Avarice straightened his silks and glared evenly at the Zoan. "I think we're through for now."

"For now." Neither the warriors eyes nor smile held any warmth at all. Sniffing loudly, Avarice summoned Sloth with a flash of his eyes and whirled about to storm out of the room. Shrugging apologetically to the other Devil Fruit users, the musician hurried after him. Being partners with Avarice was never boring and being able to meet others like himself was quite an adventure. Sloth was quite pleased with this rebellion so far.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Envy wrung out his hands for what seemed like the hundredth time, as if washing his hands without any water. He glanced nervously about as he walked down the street, completely unsure about where he was and what he was doing. Pride had sent him to the surface to take a break from the seriousness underground, but hadn't accompanied him for some reason. While he had spent some time with the mysterious cowgirl, he felt it hadn't been enough.

For one, he was a social creature and needed to constantly go along someone else with in order to feel safe and content. From what he felt around Pride, he definitely felt she fit both categories. She was strong, smart and pretty in her own dangerous way, and he knew he was safe when he was at her side. The rebels knew she was one of the fighters going with Michael in the assault and treated her with reverence and respect. For this, he didn't begrudge her random and sudden departures.

As a local merchant boisterously offered him a variety of sausages, his hand instinctively clenched the antidote pill in his shirt pocket. That was another thing he liked about Pride. Though he was a little miffed that he hadn't been able to impress her with his usefulness by informing her about the highly addictive drugs the Reichmanns put in their food, he was both shocked and pleased to find out she already had an antidote prepared. Although one skipped dose of drugs now and then wouldn't be ultimately damning, he knew that more than a handful of meals could keep the consumer coming back to the island forever, antidote or not.

It was during one of these ruminations that he felt something brush against his thigh. His hand shot down to check for his wallet and his chest heaved with relief as his fingers clasped the familiar leather case. He came to a full stop in the middle of the street as his palm found some foreign object resting beside it. frowning, he hastily extracted it, finding a folded-up piece of paper. He quickly opened it with a few deft movements into a square no larger than his hand.

"_Continue down the street as if nothing were wrong_," he read slowly. "_Turn into the third alley on your right_."

Instantly his usual fear and nervousness returned full-force. Sweat beaded on his brow as he shakily returned the note to his pants. Jerkily wiping his clammy palms on his shirt, he began taking mechanical steps towards the alley. The idea of fleeing flashed into his mind, but he knew it was foolhardy. Someone had put the note in his pocket without him noticing. Somehow, he knew that person would just as easily catch him should he try to escape.

When he reached the narrow passageway, he forced himself to take a deep, calming breath. Air whistled haltingly through his dry lips, indicating the unsuccessfulness at soothing his nerves. Cautiously, he turned and began edging down the alley. His eyes darted about as he found himself peering into every shadow to search for his unknown stalker. He nearly screamed in terror as something brushed his ankle, somehow managing to clap his hands to his mouth in time. He whirled around and almost fainted in relief as he saw the small grey rat scampering into an overturned trash can. He put a hand to his chest, feeling the rapid drumroll his heart was beating against his ribcage.

After waiting for his limbs frozen with fear to loosen, he managed to make it to the end of the alley. He stopped and adopted a look of confusion, spinning slowly around to survey his surroundings. There was nobody else in the alleyway, no indication of another person to mug him or talk to him or whatever the notewriter's objective was. He even glanced inside the square hole in the far wall of the alley, checking to make sure nobody was hiding inside.

He allowed himself a shaky laugh as he slumped against the wall of the nearest building. What would his allies say if he found himself so scared of ghosts? His cheeks tingled with embarrassment as he rested his head against the smooth brick. "Nothing to worry about," he grinned. "Nothing at all."

"Wrong." His entire body turned into a solid block of ice at the word whispered into his ear. Before he could react, he felt his legs being grabbed and something on his chest. He was flipped head over heels and tossed easily towards the square hole before he could blink. He impulsively tried to put his hands out and keep himself from falling in, but his fingers found no purchace on the smooth metal rim. The square opening had many names, but the one that mattered the most to him was its most morbid: the gate to the dead.

Terrified screams ripped from his throat as he fell through the dank darkness. He never dreamed he would be falling into the sewers, especially with his recent turns of luck. His environs was pitch black, not even a light from a gravekeeper's cart piercing the thick glom. He felt tears hovering before his eyes as he rushed towards the unforgiving stone ground. No coherent thoughts could form, so overwhelmed was he by the unrelenting fear of his untimely demise. Air rushed in his ears as he continued to twist through the thin vapor given off by the omnipresent rot coating every surface. This was not how he wanted to die.

His descent abruptly came to a halt, whiplash nearly snapping his neck. His mind barely had time to register what was going on before he fell once more, smacking painfully into the grimy floor. Before he could even react to his reunion with the ground, he was violently yanked to his feet by his hair. He cried out from the pain, then from fear as a rough cloth bag was stuffed onto his head. His hands were jerked behind his back and tied together with a thick scratchy rope.

"Walk," came the command in a voice as harsh as gravel. He fearfully obeyed without complaint.

Time and space lost all meaning to him. He walked for what felt like miles, for what felt like days. He would occasionally stumble over a protruding stone or lose his footing in a patch of slime. His captor pulled him relentlessly forward, sometimes resorting to dragging him along when he couldn't walk any farther, sobbing tearfully though his head covering. He soon felt emotionally drained, too tired to cry or protest any loner. He simply staggered forward, waiting for the end.

He barely felt any surprise when he entered an area considerably more hospitable than the slimy gloom of the sewers. He found himself through roughly into a sturdy chair. He didn't resist as his legs were roughly tied to the legs of the chair, his wrists cut loose and retied to the wooden arms. He slumped against the back and let his head loll to the side. He tried to look through the crosshatch of the woven cloth, but the tiny pixels of light made identifying anything difficult.

He winced heavily as the bag was violently ripped from his head and the light temporarily blinded him. After waiting for his eyes to adjust, he realized that the only sources of illumination were a couple of torches and the fire crackling in the fireplace. He looked around, but couldn't see anyone. He squinted and soon discerned an old woman sitting immobile by the fire, staring impassively at him.

"W-w-w-what do you want f-f-from me?" Envy wept. "What does a g-g-gravek-keeper want from me?"

He degenerated into tired sobs as she remained resolutely silent, simply gazing at him. His heart nearly leapt into his throat, however, when the answer came quietly from behind him. "The gravekeepers are only providing this room. I, on the other hand, want something from you."

The complete lack of emotion chilled the blood in his veins. "Wh-wh-who are you?" he shouted fearfully. "What d-d-d-do you want?"

Something flew in front of his face, causing him to recoil and squeeze his eyes shut. Unexpectedly, he took a blunt blow to the gut, knocking the wind from his lungs. He gave a hacking cough as the waves of pain spread throughout his stomach. When he finally managed to open his eyes again, he found himself staring at an amazingly accurate caricature of his team leader.

"Pride, sin of unapologetic arrogance." The picture was lightly tossed into the fire, revealing the next one. "Lust, the sin of shameless desire." Another piece of paper drifted into the flames. "Wrath, the sin of unquenchable ire. Sloth, the sun of unrelenting laziness. Gluttony, the sin of wasteful hunger. Greed, the sin of insatiable greed."

He blinked as a mirror was brought before him. "Envy, the sin of incurable resentment."

His eyes squeezed shut as the mirror hit the floor, shattering with a loud crash. When he looked forward once again, he was staring into a pair of eyes as dark and emotionless as polished onyx. His breath caught in his throat as the blank gaze bored into him as if searching his very soul. "Sin, the ultimate disgraceful act that doomed humanity to the blackness for all eternity."

"S-s-s-sin?" he stammered painfully. "Y-you're one of the sins? P-P-Pride's sins? Does she know ab-b-bout this?"

The petite woman never seemed to move. Somehow, he felt another blow land in his stomach, reducing him to coughing and crying in pain. When he recovered enough to focus again, his captor began to speak once more. "I ask questions. You answer questions. That is how this will proceed. This one time, I will grant you your answer. Pride knows nothing of this. I am conducting this investigation without her knowledge."

Envy nearly moaned with relief. He knew that the leader wouldn't do this to one of her own teammates. This psychopath had to be the police to kidnap him and treat him this way. He only mourned that Pride didn't know of his whereabouts. He was certain she would be able to get him out of this predicament.

He received a painful slap on the jaw for his wandering mind. "What is your real name?"

"Huh?" In his confusion, he didn't understand the question.

He groaned as he felt another unseen fist slam into his stomach. "What," Sin repeated in that same frigid tone. "Is your name?"

"Heike," Envy sobbed.

Sin yanked the bandana off of his head, letting shaggy blue hair fall into his face. "Heike Reichmann. What is your purpose in the rebellion, Heike Reichmann?"

"I w-w-want to f-f-f-fight against the Reichmanns," he managed between gasps for air. "I w-want to make this island a better p-p-place."

"Then why do you not openly fight?" Sin inquired. "There are other ways for Reichmanns to overthrow one another."

Envy looked down sadly. "I'm not f-f-fully Reichmann. My father was, b-b-b-but my mother was a city planner. I was sup-p-p-posed to be k-k-killed. Halfbloods aren't allowed t-t-t-to live."

Somehow, he got the feeling that Sin wanted to speak. "So you have no stake in Reichmann politics. But you knew about the rebellion. How did you come upon Avarice?"

"He was also n-n-n-new to the rebellion," Envy said quickly, desiring to continue to keep the interrogation as pain-free as possible. "He was about to g-g-get into a fight with Saripu-pu-putta, but I pretended like I was his f-f-friend to keep him out of t-t-t-trouble."

"A huge risk for a man you did not know."

"I knew he was the leader t-t-t-type," Envy told her. "The way he held-d-d himself, the way he s-s-s-spoke, the"- He held his tongue as Sin's gaze seemed to grow even more piercing. "Anyway. I knew he was a good f-f-fighter, but Sariputta's different. He's the best fighter i-i-in the whole rebellion, e-e-even better than General Taylor, I think. I d-d-d-dind't want Avarice to go to waste, s-s-so I stuck up for him.

"And how long after this did you encounter Pride and her companions?"

Envy hesitated for a moment as he thought back. "A d-day. Maybe two. We d-d-didn't go outside, so I really couldn't-t-t tell you."

"Are you entertaining the notion of alerting the Reichmanns about the rebellion?"

"No!" Envy protested vigorously. "I would never!"

Sin regarded him dispassionately. "You would betray your family so easily. Why should Pride expect any better?"

"I would n-n-n-never betray her!" For some reason, this response elicited another blow, this time to his thigh. "I wouldn't! I wouldn't!"

"I asked why," Sin said softly. "Not if you would."

Envy screwed his eyes shut. "Because she t-treats me like an equ-qu-qual. She's bet-t-t-tter than me in every way, b-b-but she doesn't look down on m-m-m-me. I know she would never go b-b-back on her word and she said she wouldn't let-t-t-t anything happen to m-m-me!"

"And yet, here you are," Sin droned quietly. "And she is not. I am here to offer you a proposition. She will trust you with her life when she goes into battle, a trust that will cost her dearly. I am not unaware of your talents, so I know you will be able to do this. When her back is to you and she is fully engaged in combat, you will strike her with your most powerful attack. This should incapacitate her long enough for her adversaries to kill her."

"N-n-never!" Envy's face was red with rage. "I would never d-d-d-do that!"

He screamed as she directed two invisible blows to the backs of his elbows, causing them to bend painfully in the wrong direction. He was reduced to merely blubbering as they returned to normal, wanting more than anything to comfort his aching joints. "You will do it. This will spare you your life, as her adversaries will be more than thankful for ridding them of her."

"No! I w-w-w-won't do it!"

Anguished cries filed the room as she landed several more blows on his chest and legs. "It is not hard to escape this pain," Sin murmured. "It is not hard to simply agree. However, do not agree to relieve this. You have to agree with the intent to kill her."

"Hell-ll-ll no! Why do you d-d-d-o it your-"

His words were cut off by a grunt of shock as she dislocated both of his shoulders. He glanced down at his arms hanging uselessly and barely understood what was going on. A jab to the stomach brought up his dinner, vomit spewing from his mouth. Somehow, it seemed to simply go through her, landing all across the floor. Sin turned and droned, "I apologize for the mess."

The ancient gravekeeper glanced down at the puddle of half-digested food. "I haul rotting corpses for a living," she rasped. "This is nothing."

Somewhere in his rattled mind, Envy knew that Sin wasn't sorry at all for the mess. She had only said it to make sure Envy recognized that he would be receiving no help from the somber onlooker. He tried to aim his next heave at the curvaceous interrogator, but it seemed as if Sin were just an illusion. He would have had better luck trying to hit the moon. The only reason he knew she was a solid human being was that the floor around her feet was suspiciously devoid of vomit.

For letting his eyes rove, he took another few slaps to the cheek. His head rolled back as he shouted with pain, wishing he could be anywhere but here. When he finally looked back down, he saw that Sin was preparing a syringe. "Wha-what is that?"

Yet another fist crashed into his chest. He choked and tried in vain to force air back into his lungs, but it seemed useless. "Adrenaline," Sin informed him tonelessly as he gasped painfully. "You are not going to pass out."

He received another indication that she was solid when she seized his hair in a vise grip and wrenched his head to the side. He didn't even flinch as the needle entered his exposed neck and the liquid drained into his vein. Backing away, Sin somehow made the syringe disappear as she waited for the chemical to take effect.

"No m-m-m-matter what you do to m-m-me," Envy spat, "you'll never turn me against P-P-P-Pride. If you kn-kn-know her, you know sh-sh-she wouldn't want you t-t-to do this."

Sin's glacial gaze was fixed upon him. "Right now, her concerns are neither my concerns nor yours. Let us focus on what you are going to do to her."

"I will f-f-fight alongside her and p-p-p-protect her!" he shouted defiantly.

He squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his muscles in preparation for the next blow. Surprisingly enough, it never came. When he summoned up enough courage to open his eyes again, his heart nearly stopped when he saw a new syringe being prepared. "Wh-wh-what's that?"

He took another completely unexpected strike to the throat, momentarily cutting off his air supply. "I ask questions, you answer questions," Sin reminded him.

Envy wish he could formulate a reply, but his mind couldn't find the words and his voice wouldn't be able to sound them. He simply sat there in petrified terror as Sin injected another concoction into his neck. Then, much to his surprise, she began cutting him loose.

He cautiously waited for her next round of brutal questioning, but she only went over to the gravekeeper, murmuring something into her ear. The elderly woman looked down at the sack of coins dropped into her palm and bobbed her hand, testing its weight. Evidently satisfied, she pocketed the pouch and turned her attention to Envy.

"So that's it-t-t?" he asked quietly, as if speaking louder would provoke another interrogation. "I'm free to-"

Sin dematerialized before he could say another word. Confused, he turned to the gravekeeper for an explanation. "She said she is off to gather more information. If she feels it necessary, she will find you again. You are to say you were drinking when asked by Pride or one of the others about your whereabouts. Under no circumstances are you to mention this conversation to anybody."

"C-c-c-conversation?" Envy gasped in disbelief, tugging at his loose collar. The room seemed to be growing warmer and his vision was beginning to cloud.

"Should you violate these conditions, you will first be turned in to either General Taylor Monchstein or Police Chief Franz Gruss. After they deal with whichever treachery they try you for, if you still live, you will find yourself in a cell with her." The gravekeeper paused as Envy gave his first scream of agony and convulsed onto the floor. "I am to to deliver you back to the rebels in three hours. While the drug you have has a half-life of fifteen minutes, you will lose all sense of time. Three hours is just an estimate based on your height, weight and sex. If you continue to exhibit symptoms, I am to keep you an additional two…"

Whatever instructions the gravekeeper was going to recite were drowned out by the roaring in his ears. As every nerve in his body erupted into red-hot torment, his mind briefly flashed to the other six named sins. He was happy that, even in the end, even when confronted with his own history and torture too similar to what his family would do to any rebel they captured alive, he had been strong enough to not give up his friends. With this last pleasing thought, he left the plane of consciousness and entered one of pain.

* * *

The allocation to each half isn't quite equal, but I realized that Envy truly hadn't been explored as a character yet. Plus, who would pass up getting another chance to see Raven? Aside from Envy, now.


	51. Prepare for War

Sorry I haven't been able to update in such a long time. New college semester has me swamped.

* * *

Pride woke the instant Sin left her side, hazel eyes flashing open. The bed had been comfortable enough and with her trusted doctor watching over the other seven sins, the pirate captain had been free to fully rest and prepare herself for the oncoming battle. after flexing her digits and limbs to relieve any remaining stiffness, she sat up so she could better scan the room. Much to her surprise and pleasure, the six teammates who actually slept were gathered together on the floor. She was forced to cover her mouth to stifle her laughter as she viewed the positions they had worked themselves into.

The most obvious was the shirtless and barefooted Gluttony, sprawled out across the ground. His rumbling snores mixed with Wrath's, who was similarly spread-eagled between the bandit's left arm and leg. His metal wings were extended, one of them providing a protective blanket for the softly slumbering Sloth. Pride quirked her mouth as she realized Lust was curled up underneath the berserker's functioning arm, as nude as the day she was born. She seemed completely content under his weighty limb, though Pride imagined that Wrath was somehow exerting enough strength to keep from crushing the first mate. Avarice was laid out leisurely on Gluttony's chest, his purple cloak wrapped tightly around him. The enormous man was holding him in a protective grip, his right hand almost completely covering his chest. The pirate captain frowned as she searched for Envy, eventually finding him resting gently against Gluttony's head. It was a shame to disturb the peaceful sleepers, but battle was rapidly approaching and there was no time for delay.

"All right everybody," she called as she stood up and stretched. "Wake-up call. It's time to get moving."

As she expected, Gluttony's eyes were the first ones open, though he refrained from so much as twitching as he became aware of the people resting upon him. The one who actually moved first was Avarice, the hooded rebel already scrambling to his feet. "How long until we march?" he asked brusquely.

"We have maybe an hour before we have to be on the move," Pride told him. "So about half an hour until the battle actually starts."

Sloth gave a heavy groan as he wriggled out of his companion's metal extremity, jerkily getting to a sitting position. "Are we eating with the others or alone?"

"Be'er fuckin' be alone," Wrath grumbled without stirring. "Don' feel like movin'."

"Me either," Lust added, squirming more snugly against him.

Had it been any other mostly-naked man and fully-naked woman, Pride would have reacted much like her comically astonished musician. As it was, she merely sighed and shook her head. "We are indeed eating separately," she informed them. "Though we still do have to be ready in time."

"Didn't you have outfits for the rest of us you wanted us to wear?" Gluttony reminded the unmoving first mate as he gingerly sat up and scooted against the wall.

She waved her hand dismissively through the air. "'M warm right now. You said you would have something to surprise me. Give the others their outfits and get yours ready."

Shrugging helplessly at the simmering alchemist, he got up and backed carefully out of the room to do as he was instructed. After smoothing out and putting back on his vest and pants, somehow managing to keep his hood from slipping even the smallest bit, Avarice sidled up to the leader of the team. "Are Lust and Wrath together? I don't remember being informed about any real complications in team dynamics."

Pride actually did laugh this time, both at his straightforwardness and at the very idea of it. "No, no. Nothing like that. Take my word for it that neither of them has anything even remotely close to that on their minds."

"Remotely close to what?" Lust piped up, sensing they were talking about her.

An amused smile remained on the pirate captain's lips. "See what I mean. Now quit ogling her and do something useful. Like getting us breakfast."

The richly-clad rebel sputtered as he tried to put words to his incredulity. "_You_ are sending _me_ to go get breakfast for you?" he managed at last. "I am not a servant!"

He quailed ever so slightly beneath her dangerous glare. "Do not test me, Avarice. Unless you think this is somehow beneath you."

"I-I-I'll go," Envy volunteered, stepping carefully between them.

"And Avarice will accompany you." The tone of her voice broke no argument. Unwilling to cross the smaller woman, Avarice turned on his heel and stormed out, Envy following closely behind him. After waiting for the door to fully close, Pride faced her crewmembers once more and snapped her fingers. Sin dropped out of the shadows like a descending raptor, landing noiselessly beside her.

At Sin's arrival, two pairs of eyes shot open, one electric blue and one ivy green. Wrath released his hold on the first mate as he burst to his feet, allowing her to bound over to the black-clad doctor. As usual, her attempt to hug Sin was not unlike trying to catch hold of a cloud. Not the least bit deterred, she began chasing Sin around, her delighted laughter filling the room.

"And how are you feeling?" Pride asked her newly-risen navigator. "You've been asleep for almost thirteen hours."

"Like Ah fell int' a fuckin' box a knives," he growled, his eyes never leaving the curvaceous doctor. "Only fough' that 'ard 'gains' tha' axe-wieldin' cockpouch, tha' pig-fuckin' monk an' yonder back-stabbin' concubine."

Pride rolled her eyes at the pleased smile at her face. "Well, Deus is going to be marching alongside us. Do you think you'll be able to keep yourself from attacking him.

"Why'd I do tha'?" he asked, adopting an expression of honest confusion.

The pirate captain let her gaze rove over the fresh scars crisscrossing over the myriad of old ones. "He did quite a job on you."

"An' I beat 'im in the end, didn' I?" he said proudly, retracting his large grey wings. "'T's no' like 'er where I 'aven' fuckin' downed 'er in a real figh'."

"Huh," Pride murmured, sidestepping one of Lust's more haphazard lunges and catching her by the hand. "That actually makes some degree of sense. As for you, Lust, do you mind putting on some clothes? I think Sloth is going to pass out soon if you don't."

The artist's brilliant smile seemed to brighten up the room. "Come on, Captain! He just needs to get rid of the stick up his ass, that's all!" She laughed gaily at the mock stern glance Pride was trying to fix on her. "Oh all right, all right. Where'd Gluttony put my stu- oh! There they are!"

Pride raised an eyebrow as the massive bandit reentered the room, having put on his vest at one point. He had been lingering outside the closed door, apparently waiting for his cue to come back inside. Nodding to Sin in greetings, he handed Lust a cluster of different colored bags. When questioned by the former nun where his own outfit was, he gestured back out the door and explained how much easier it would be to put it on outside. Lust accepted this answer and completely ignored his departure in favor of ordering the other pirates what to do.

"Sloth, you get this black nightcap and this counting sheep tie," she began, tossing him an elegant black bag.

Pride couldn't help but laugh again at the neutral expression on the musician's face. after catching the bag and withdrawing the nightcap, a long triangular one made of fine glossy silk, his face turned to amused acceptance. "I'm fine with wearing these."

"I wanted to do more, but I new you would through a huuuuuuge tantrum," Lust announced. "Now Wrath, go get yours over by the door. I can't lift it for the life of me."

"Ah?" the fighter grumbled curiously, fetching the package and shredding the paper with a single swipe of his claws. His lips curved into a wicked grin as he beheld the deadly armguard. Gluttony had forged it from some dark metal, fixing razor-sharp protrusions that curved dangerously away from the armor. "Fuckin' awesome…"

"I knew you'd like it!" Lust bubbled cheerfully. "Sin, your outfit is gorgeous as it is. Plus, you're practically invisible most of the time, so it doesn't really matter. I did get you this ribbon for your hair, though."

Sin received the strip of cloth and stared at it emotionlessly. In one fluid motion, she undid her ponytail, discarded her previous accessory and redid her hair with the one Lust had offered her. This one, made from black material similar to Sloth's nightcap, was longer than her hair, its two tails finishing halfway down her calves. "It is tolerable," she droned.

Pride nearly gasped in surprise. Despite maintaining her usual complete lack of emotion, this seemed like a huge step forward. For her to willingly sacrifice even the tiniest piece of efficiency to please the first mate was incredible. The sniper was so wrapped up in contemplating the ramifications of this that she nearly missed the bags launched in her direction.

"These are for you, Captain!" Lust chirped. "You get a complete makeover, clothes-wise. The only things you get to keep are your boots and your hat. Oh, and you need to give me your glove."

The pirate captain hesitated for a moment. Glancing about in a reflexive maneuver to protect her modesty, then remembering that worrying about such a concept was absurd when dealing with her crewmembers, she began pulling off the T-shirt and pants she had slept in. soon, she was only left with her underclothes and glove. She gave a clipped shout of surprise as her first mate leapt forward and somehow instantly stripped her of her remaining clothes, exposing her to the cool air.

"Lyn!" she protested, making sure that the male pirates weren't watching. Sloth was turned completely way, preoccupied with adjusting his new tie. Wrath's uncaring stare occasionally fell upon them, but he was more interested in wrestling on the pair of pants Lust had gotten him, the same color as his armguard with realistic flames curling up from the bottom cuffs and terminating above his knees.

Thankful that her male crewmembers were either polite or apathetic, the sniper rounded upon her first mate. "That was completely uncalled-for," she hissed.

"Sorry!" Lust shouted unapologetically. "But you needed everything off to put this on! Well, maybe not these…"

Pride snatched back her panties and swiftly replaced them. Finding that she was being refused her bra, she grudgingly began assembling the outfit Lust had gotten her. Satisfied, the artist kept the appropriated black glove and went over to Sin, leaving Pride to dress in peace.

After getting over her initial irritation, the pirate captain was actually quite pleased with her new wardrobe. The top Lust had gotten was slightly more revealing than she would have liked, the neckline far lower than any of her own shirts, though nowhere near Lust's preferred plunge. The bright red went well with the dark blue of her new jeans, as the first mate had thankfully decided against a bare midriff. Similar to Wrath's pants, crimson tendrils curved up from the cuff, synergizing well with her red boots when the pants were tucked into them. She noted with some pleasure that Lust had remembered her request for a right-handed glove, pulling it on and flexing her fingers.

What thrilled Pride the most was the overshirt Lust had chosen. It was composed of a material as light as her assassin outfit, bearing several pockets nearly invisible at first glance. Its base brushed against her calves as she put it on, though the lightest touch swept it aside, useful to keep from snagging on uneven surfaces or enemy weapons. The sleeves were thick enough to provide some warmth when extended, but were easily rolled up without bunching uncomfortably. She found with some delight that the length could be folded up to add some extra padding for her back. Finally, the shirt was completely black on one side. The other was a wide variety of dark colors that shifted as it moved, almost becoming invisible to the eye.

"This is amazing," Pride breathed as she pulled it on and admired it. "Where'd you get this?"

"Gluttony found a secret shop," Lust said airily, still huddled in the corner with Sin. "See if your guns work with it."

Pride swiftly piled on her collection of arms. Her new black belt, long golden dragons running along the center, held all four pistols comfortably, even allowing for some ammunition for her old pistols. Her throwing knives were just as easily stashed in her boots and shoulder holsters as they were before, her tiny blade tucked securely in her white cowboy hat. Her rifle was strapped onto her back, the leather band crossing her chest diagonally.

After some rummaging around, she found where she had hidden her rifle ammunition. The rounds fit securely on the bandolier, though some were easily placed in various pockets. After checking that all of her weapons could be drawn in the blink of an eye, she turned to her female crewmembers and stared at the glove offered to her.

Somehow, in the shot time it had taken her to dress, they had managed to sew her Jolly Roger onto the back of it. she supposed that Lust's artistic instruction and Sin's ability to stitch wounds in a heartbeat formed a formidable combination. She slowly extended her hand to take the final piece of her outfit when Lust inquired, "What's that on your hand?"

For a split second, Pride contemplated feigning ignorance. She settled for giving the simplest of answers as she turned her left hand over to show Lust the back. "A waning gibbous moon."

The first mate's fingertips lightly traced the smooth circle and paused briefly over the darkened crescent. Even Sloth ventured over to look, though Wrath had left the room at some point. The musician opened his mouth to ask something, but Lust cut him off. "Okay! Here's your new glove!"

Nodding gratefully to the first mate, Pride pulled the glove on, testing the mobility of her fingers as she admired the Jolly Roger. She momentarily smiled at the fact that the glove of the pirate flag was printed on the glove it represented, then turned her attention to more important matters. "Wait, what about you? I told you to get dressed a while ago."

"Okay!" A sinking feeling in her stomach told Pride that she probably wasn't going to be too happy with what the first mate had chosen. "But you gotta turn around! It's gonna be a surprise!"

Despite the peculiarity of the request, considering the woman who was requesting it was already naked, the sniper complied. A short glance to the side revealed that Sin was still watching attentively. But a childish protest from Lust was all it took to turn her around as well. Pride's surprise grew even more when Wrath ambled back into the room, awkwardly balancing four trays of food using his right arm and wing with a fifth clenched in his sharp teeth.

"Am I still dreaming?" she whispered to Sloth. "Did I wake up in an alternate reality?"

The alchemist shrugged, evidently just as perplexed as she was. "No idea, but I seriously wouldn't be complaining."

"Complaining is not the same as wondering," Pride commented, disbelief filling her as Wrath calmly offered a tray to Sin, who just as peacefully accepted it. "I'm just trying to figure out what divinity stopped in here and switched them for two others."

"We are not behaving in any extraordinary fashion," Sin interrupted tonelessly as she tossed the antidote to each of them.

"Oh, I beg to differ," Sloth argued. "Hothead's not trying to rip you in half and you're treating us almost like friends. It's actually creeping me out to some extent."

"All done!" Lust's satisfied shout interrupted their conversation. Pride turned around and almost let her mouth fall open in surprise. While the first mate had never been the most conservative when it came to clothing, what she was wearing now was somehow more revealing than anything she had ever worn.

Her torso was covered in thin chainmail, an open cloth jacket covering barely half of her breasts. Her lower body bore only some white short shorts to allow her legs maximum mobility. Her feet were covered in light shoes almost as pale as her skin. Her rapier was strapped to her back, her beads wrapped around its sheath. To top it all off, her hair trailed luxuriously down her chest and back, accentuating her attractive features.

Pride hardly registered Sloth falling to the ground beside her. "You're wearing that?" she managed at last.

"Like it?" Lust chirped, twirling around to show off her outfit from every angle. "I was gonna wear this, but Gluttony said you wouldn't be happy."

The sniper had only a short moment to wonder what would be worse before Lust extracted an even skimpier and more provocative collection of leather. "And just where the hell did you get that?"

"Gluttony called it…" Lust tapped her lips as she tried to remember. "Oh yeah! An S&M shop!"

"Well, thank him for at least restraining you to some extent," Pride muttered as Sloth facefaulted again. "At least what you're wearing now can actually be described as protective to some degree."

"That's what he said!" Lust giggled happily as she single-handedly hoisted the alchemist to his feet. "Anyway, you three can come back in now!"

Sin disappeared the instant the door creaked open and the non-pirate rebels entered. Avarice hadn't changed his outfit and was satisfied merely consuming his meal, though he did make sure to ask Sloth for his dose of antidote. Gluttony, who had already swallowed his pill, was clad in his gleaming white armor from head to toe. He too held a brief conversation with his partner, guaranteeing Lust that he did indeed have something special behind the thick white plates.

What surprised everyone the most was Envy's change in appearance. The rebel had altered his wardrobe from tattered rags to a most bizarre compilation. On top of his bandana rested a white baseball cap, turned backwards to keep the bill out of his eyes. Around his shoulders rested a deep purple cape. His left arm was covered in a long black sleeve, the other sleeve ripped off to reveal his slender muscles. His chest was covered in a maroon dress vest, which was in turn concealing a thin leather cuirass. The tight denim jeans he was wearing were tucked into dark green military boots, which thumped heavily against the ground as he walked.

"That's certainly… interesting," Sloth said cautiously.

"You look awesome!" Lust added.

Envy's nervous expression was slowly vanishing as he turned to Pride in a silent request for feedback. "It definitely suits you," she told him, looking over the eclectic ensemble.

"You think?" he asked, fiddling with his single sleeve. "I wanted to get something from all of you, you know, for luck."

"You certainly nailed that part," Gluttony assured him, stuffing a handful of breakfast into his mouth.

"That you did," Avarice mumbled, before asking, "Where did Wrath go? We need to march soon."

Lust frowned as she whirled around to look for him. "He was just here…"

"Have you considered keeping a better watch on him?" the hooded rebel snapped. "Possibly a leash?"

Pride smiled. "I'll worry about Wrath. You worry about the battle. Let's focus for a moment here. I know you've been hanging out in groups, but let's go over them for clarification.

"Lust and Gluttony. You two are the armed side. If we encounter any enemies without extraordinary powers, I want you to tackle them. Just because the don't have powers doesn't mean they'll be easy; remember that. Lust deals with any faster opponents, Gluttony the stronger ones. If your rapier or beads break, he can make you new ones. There's not much else I can say other than stuck together and look out for each other.

"Avarice and Sloth. From what Sloth tells me, you form a better combination than we originally anticipated. As far as I've discussed with Michael and General Taylor, you'll be dealing with one of three Devil Fruit users. You've already been brief on which ones you'll likely be left with, but remember, basic strategy is Avarice distracts them while Sloth makes a pool to drown them. Worse comes to worst, Avarice uses whatever element Sloth makes to increase in size. Remember what I'm paying you, Avarice, and look out for each other.

"Envy, you and I are sticking with Michael to the end. I've seen you fight and you should be fine so long as you stick with us. Since you can knock Wrath on his ass, you can deal with anyone long enough for one of the other to help if you need it, myself included. Try not to directly confront anyone above your level by yourself and we'll get through this. The both of us.

"I trust that you'll be able to improvise anything more complex than what I've just told you. If you absolutely need help, don't hesitate to ask a fellow rebel. I now that you all have been socializing with others. People like Io, Kotel, Bavacakra, Deus, Messiah, they can all be trusted and are more than capable fighters. I don't know what else to say other than let's stay alive and meet up afterwards. All of us. Now go outside and get ready."

All five faces were deadly serious as they mulled over her words. One by one, they turned to leave, securing their arms and mentally preparing themselves. The pirate captain held up her hand, causing them all to halt for a moment. "Avarice. A word, if you please."

The hooded man obligingly stayed behind while the others filed out, crossing his arms expectantly. After waiting for the door to close, he leveled his gaze upon her and said flatly, "Yes?"

Pride listened to make sure nobody was waiting just outside the door and eavesdropping, then casually strolled up to him to lower his guard. All of a sudden, she seized his collar with her right hand, drawing her pistol threateningly. "What is the meaning of this?" he protested.

"Listen to me, Avarice, and listen to me well," she hissed. "I know who you really are and don't think for a second that I'm impressed. You could be king of this whole death-ridden world and I wouldn't care anymore. I, too, held a rank such as yours and I have grown to hate it and those who abuse it. I've killed peasants and kings without distinction, so don't think for a second that I won't slay you if I find out you did anything to Sloth. Do I make myself clear?"

His hood fell back enough to reveal his grey eyes, as defiant and as furious as a storm at sea. Pride was momentarily taken aback by the raw power and unfiltered emotion he expressed and almost missed his retort laced with as much venom as he could muster. "Transparently. You would do well to learn your place, Pride. After the battle, we will have a long conversation, you and I."

"Looking forward to it," she countered frigidly. She roughly released her hold on him and reholstered her weapon. Readjusting his silks and cowl, Avarice stormed outside to rejoin the other sins. Pride rubbed her forehead, exhaling thankfully as he doctor landed beside her.

"His arrogance is only outmatched by his greed," Sin murmured. "Is it so wise to keep him with them?"

"Much like Wrath, his flaws can be overlooked because of his strengths," Pride told her, staring vacantly into space. "Another reason why he's teamed up with Sloth. A big problem is that he's a natural-born leader, undeniably so. He's not the type to take orders, but he's definitely smart enough not to disobey the ones he's given without a damn good reason."

"And if such a reason should arise? Do you think Sloth will be able to hold his own?"

"I sure as hell hope so," Pride sighed. "Taking him down would be better left to you or wrath, but I cannot spare either of you. As you probably guessed, you are secretly partnered with Wrath. I want you to monitor Lust and Sloth when you can. I trust Gluttony, but we are going to be going against some very difficult opponents. Avarice… I don't trust him, but I don't think we have to worry about him either. And while I don't think Wrath will fall easily, I do want you to fight with him."

"You believe that he will not attack me when he is in a fighting mood?" Sin asked.

Pride glanced down at her. "There's a one hundred percent chance that he will, but he is one of the top fighters in the entire army and unfortunately, General Taylor knows it after his day-long fight with Deus. That means he'll be pitted against some extremely challenging opponents and he's already fairly wounded. Gluttony and Lust's gift was genius, but even with that armguard, I know he'll receive multiple life-threatening injuries. Promise me you'll keep him alive as best you can."

For a long, silent moment, emotionless jet gazed into serious hazel. Finally, Sin nodded once. "If that is what you wish."

"It is, Raven," Pride said softly, holding up her newly-modified black glove. "Now go. Fight hard and stay safe. We will see each other after the battle."

Sin watched as the sniper walked proudly outside, continuing to stare long after the door slid shut. Then, so quietly even her sharp-eared captain might have missed it were she in the room, the former assassin whispered, "Fight hard and stay safe. We will need you after the battle."

With that, she kicked off the ground two dozen times in the blink of an eye and disappeared.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Zan looked up as flecks of mortar drifted down from the ceiling and spattered the floor before him. Unlike his partner, he didn't feel the need to take cover from the falling flakes. He sighed as he continued to push the cart, shaking his head. "How can you be so calm?" Uri asked when she realized her protective cover was being wheeled away.

"It's just a rebellion on the move," Zan grumbled. "More feet have traveled those passages than there are stars in the sky."

"I've never seen the stars," she informed him.

The gravekeeper nodded slowly. "You have not passed the rite yet, then. Well, no matter. There are a lot of stars and a lot of rebels. Calm yourself, young one, for unless I'm very much mistaken, the next several turns of the glass will be unusually eventful for us."

* * *

Hope that was to your satisfaction. I think I caught all the grammatical errors, but again, not completely sure.


	52. On the Move

I am so excited that One Piece is back. The Straw Hat Pirates look so kickass after that timeskip.

* * *

General Taylor scanned the crowd before him. He knew better than to check the time; Michael would inevitably inform him when it was time to move. Gabriel and Qiyama's respective forays had already begun. His was the only one left. He took a deep breath to calm his racing heart and turned to his friend. "Okay, Michael. You're in charge now."

"Remind me again why you're not leading?" Michael inquired sourly.

"I told you I have something I need to do," General Taylor reminded him. "They need someone who can lead them in the front at all times. I-"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Michael interrupted rudely. "Okay, listen up, louts! General Taylor is your leader, but I am the one directing this charge! As we agreed, there are going to be three prongs of attack. When we enter the front doors, a group lead by Zion will split off and take the living quarters of the servants, guards and other non-Reichmann personnel.

"Now we agreed that the leaders of each charge gets to choose two wingmen. Zion, as you are the first, you get first pick. Please state your desired partners loudly and clearly. With a few exceptions, such as members General Taylor, Saruiputta or I have requested for other reasons, you are allowed to pick anyone you want. So who is it you choose?"

The hulking behemoth of a man let his gaze roll slowly over the surrounding rebels. A thick iron chain swung around his complete lack of chins or neck as he turned, the tiny sunglasses before his beady eyes somehow managing to stay on his nose. He towered over everyone present and was nearly as round as he was tall. The open trenchcoat exposed his meaty chest and bulging belly when he took a few steps forward, the earth rumbling each time his foot fell. "Do you have dat list?" he boomed with a musically deep voice.

"Oh right," Michael remembered. "Here it is."

Zion plucked the offered scrap of paper and squinted at it. "Dis Io and dis Messiah. Dey will come wit me."

General Taylor nodded contently. The moose girl was a good choice to accompany the rotund man. They both primarily fought by bulling into their enemies using their large sizes. The slender Messiah was a good complementary fighter, capable of using his long staff to poke enemies into the paths of his bulky partners. But General Taylor knew that this group had one gigantic advantage. Despite his size and slow speech, Zion was an undeniably quick man. A single moment of underestimation would lead to at best a kick with a foot that could crush cinderblocks and at worst encountering a gut composed of solid muscle. After glancing to make sure Zion was sure about his choice, Michael continued.

"Once Zion, Io and Messiah break off with their team, we go up the main stairwell into the main hall. We might encounter some particular enemies there, but we'll talk about that later. From there, we go into one of the ballrooms, where Deus will lead his team and split off through a servant's passage. The purpose of this is to overwhelm the Reichmanns by attacking from both sides. This way, we might be able to overcome obstacles that seem insurmountable. Deus, who do you choose?"

"Is Pride and her crew out of the question?" the swordsman asked lazily.

"Unfortunately, she's one of the rebels who have to accompany me."

"Fine." Deus seemed completely unfazed by the refusal. "Then I'll just borrow Wrath. Bhavacakra wouldn't be too bad either." If not for the nine-foot katana at his feet, the lanky man would have almost looked like an athlete. His sky blue gi hung loosely over his lithe form, his navy pants billowing dramatically. His wood-tipped steel geta clacked noisily on the floor, though General Taylor knew he could just as easily make no sound at all if he wished.

The rebel leader was just as pleased with Deus' choice as he had been with Zion's. The path Deus had to take was long and winding, and the swordsman was the rebel who best combined speed, endurance, skill and power. The crippled berserker and the Wheel Man could probably keep up with him no matter how fast he ran. While this meant that most of the troops behind him would be reduced to reinforcements rather than side-by-side allies, he was confident that the trio would be more than capable of dealing with whatever they encountered.

"Now, we have special forces for two particular threats," Michael announced. "One is the Lava Man we now know as Excel, the other is a fearsome swordsman known as the Albino Panther. For Excel, we have Naga and whoever he chooses. For the Albino Panther, Sabbath and her crew. I'll let you both choose at the same time, so argue against each other if you want someone the other has chosen."

"Shouldn't be a question," Sabbath stated matter-of-factly, snapping her bubble gum noisily to punctuate her sentence. Her hot pink mohawk hung slightly in front of eyes hidden behind thick eyeliner. The silver studs in her tongue, eyebrows and bottom lip glittered in the torchlight. Not one article of clothing lacked a leering skull, from her tattered pink T-shirt and torn black shorts to the pendants hanging from her ears to the spiked collars around her wrists, ankles and neck. Her feet were crossed, the thick black soles of her rocker boots gripping the ground firmly. As she casually whirled her weapon of choice, a shoulder-mounted bazooka, she blew and cracked another bubble. "I should get Alpha and Omega."

Naga regarded her coolly. He was currently in his human form and for that, General Taylor was thankful. While almost all of his fighters were okay, he didn't want those who were intimidated easily viewing Naga's hybrid form. As it was, the angular blue war paint covering his powerful muscles and the enormous trident hefted in one hand were enough to set a good many nerves on edge. Furthermore, his eyes were set in a reptilian glare as he surveyed the crowded rebels as a lion would a pack of antelopes. Like a number of rebels, he wore only a simple pair of pants. "Yessss, you ssshould get Alpha and Omega. I do not dissssspute that. I desire Avarissss and Crusssifix."

General Taylor looked up at this. "I thought Crucifix was in Gabriel's group," he muttered to Michael.

"She transferred last night," Michael whispered back. "I thought you knew."

"I didn't but I'm not complaining about her presence." He had no reason to complain. Crucifix was one of the most promising recruits, devastating with her segmented staff and following orders to the letter. She was an interesting contrast to the conceited elementalist Naga had chosen. While he was glad that clustering the Devil Fruit users had been useful to learn of the others' abilities, he never expected the most militant one to fight alongside the least subservient.

As for Sabbath, Alpha and Omega had been her only real choices. She didn't appear the least bit put off at being forced to pick the identical twins, instead looking nonchalantly eager to start the battle. Her allies were both Nitoryu users, sometimes fighting with such impeccable coordination that they seemed almost like one being. They were possibly the only way to counter the Albino Panther.

"Very well," Michael acknowledged. "Both, one or neither might have to break away to deal with their particular assignment. The rest of you, those who don't choose to follow one of the aforementioned teams, will be coming with me. After Deus leaves, we'll cross a bridge over the underground, far deeper than the base we've been hiding in so don't fall, and enter the clock tower. From there, we head up to the study where we should meet the heads of the Reichmann Family. Obviously, I don't need to tell you what to do from there."

"You all have your orders!" General Taylor picked up where Michael had left off. "You know what you were going against when you signed up for it, but I know there is not a single man or woman with us right now that our enemies would want to confront. On the other side of this door lies a city where chaos is running rampant. We'll give them hell as they try to deal with us supporting our allies. We will crush them!"

Raucous cheers filled the cavern. General Taylor valiantly fought for silence by waving his arms, a wide grin spread across his face. "Today, we will free this land. Today, we will wage war for those who cannot stand up for themselves, fight for those who have no strength, win for those who have lost all hope. Together, the five team leaders will lead three charges of liberation! Are you ready, leaders?"

Michael swung his massive broadsword around in glittering arcs. "Free to fight!"

"Let's kill those motherfuckers!" Sabbath seethed.

"We are ready to rumble," Zion boomed.

"May our enemiessss die with ffffear on their lipsss," Naga breathed.

"You want me to say something?" Deus asked when all eyes turned to him. "Well, what do you want? We'll kick their asses and be home in time for dinner."

Thunderous roars reverberated throughout the cave like never before. This time, General Taylor made no attempt to calm them. Instead, he let their frenzied shouts seep inside of him and fill him to his core. For only the briefest of moments, a smirk of smug satisfaction flashed across his face. But it was just as quickly replaced by a smile of supreme confidence. He started slightly as Sariputta placed a hand on his shoulder. "Better than a man that conquers a thousand thousand men one who conquers one, himself," the bald man murmured.

"What'd he say?" Michael asked.

General Taylor shrugged unknowingly. Turning to Sabbath, he extended his arms toward the door and bowed deeply. "If you would, my dear."

"All right!" the punk nodded, her mouth splitting into a malicious grin. "Let's get this party started!

She spread her legs wide for stability and aimed her bazooka at the massive sliding door. Without a moment's hesitation to warn the rebels clustered too close to it, she pulled the trigger, rocking slightly backwards as the weapon discharged. A rocket flew out amid a breath of smoke, flying crazily through the air. With a clamorous explosion, it slammed into the massive plate of metal. Those too close were thrown backwards, hopefully unharmed despite their proximity. Dust filled the opining copiously, obscuring the vision of the rebels still on their feet. Everybody froze mid-cheer. Almost everybody.

Zion was hurling himself into the cloud before the explosion even had time to echo. He smashed into the damaged door, sending it flying into the surprised soldiers beyond, and hit the ground with a groundshaking impact. His motor-powered roller blades turned the cracked stone road into gravel as they fought for purchase. Without waiting for the caterpillar treads to catch, Zion kicked off into the air. Deus was right behind him, seven feet of folded steel nearly blinding in the late morning sunlight. The rest of the rebels were still plowing through the dust, eager to deal with the enemy.

Sheer, uncoordinated panic.

The army was emerging from what had simply looked like a wagon-parking shed. The Reichmann troops were completely unprepared for the two immediate threats, Deus' long-reaching blade or the solar eclipse that was Zion. As it turned out, the choice between two evils was rendered meaningless as another rocket flew out and wiped away the knot of soldiers. The obese man landed; the lanky man slid to a stop. They both looked back at the punk emerging from the dust, cheekily snapping her gum at them. "Beat ya."

Zion rolled his eyes and Deus gave an amused chuckle. The three team leaders rushed forward, the rest of the rebels close on their heels. Within a few seconds, it became plainly evident why General Taylor had chosen Michael's troops. They overwhelmed the regular Reichmann soldiers like a tidal wave crashing through a beachside village. These were the most focused and powerful fighters whose main objective was the palace not a half mile away.

Those in front didn't waste time dispatching every soldier in the path, leaving them for the rebels behind them. Whenever an officer of above-average ability popped up, they were either taken out by one of the leaders or double-teamed by two non-ranking rebels. They left nothing to chance, keeping some people in front solely concerned with keeping bullets and cannonballs from hitting the army and avoiding sustaining any injuries.

After nearly fifteen minutes of steady marching, they reached the gates to the main palace. Soldiers were no longer streaming through the forward rebels, instead bunching tightly together as if to prevent them from advancing. Zion, whose trenchcoat had metal weights sewn into it to soak up bullets, steamrolled a path right through the middle. Michael and Deus scythed their way through the stragglers. This combination proved completely demoralizing for the Reichmann troops, many of them scattering before the relentless charge. Those attempting to resist were crushed without mercy. General Taylor marveled at the efficiency of the varied army he commanded. He never even got the chance to raise his spear.

The path to the entrance to the colossal manor was straight, but long. Every inch was crammed with soldiers frantically fighting for their lives. But nothing could stop the rebels. Whenever one of the forward attackers flagged, they were able to fall back for a moment and let one of their allies take their place. In this way, the Reichmann soldiers seemed to be hacking and shooting at never-tiring rebels. As they drew closer to the mansion, more and more challenging opponents began to appear. A single mistake became fatal for either side. For the first time, rebels began to join the Reichmann troops on the ground, injured or dead. This only vitalized those still standing, kindling their spirits with promises to avenge the fallen.

But there was roughly a quarter mile to go when the relatively weaker rebels fell back like a river rushing through rocks, leaving only the strongest in front. Zion flattened everything in his path with astonishing speed. Every thrust of Naga's trident pierced clean through a living body. Crucifix was a wooden whirlwind with legs. Sabbath strode cockily amid the combatants as she shot straight upwards, shells raining down like meteors. No man could stand before Michael's blade, which cut through armor and bone as if slicing bread. Messiah jabbed his staff with gruesome accuracy, crushing eyes and throats indiscriminately.

The clock struck eleven when the group finally made it to the front double doors. Sabbath attempted to reenact her dramatic introduction to the battle, but the doors were unfazed by the direct hit. Frowning unhappily, Michael singled out the five absolute strongest rebels to open the door. Three of them, Zion, Gluttony and Atlas, all loomed over the front-most rebels as they prepared themselves to open the doors. Deus resheathed and rested his weapon against the metal, flexing his hands before him. When it was clear the others were ready, Sariputta joined them in clapping hands onto the doors. They all pushed as hard as they could and the doors swung open surprisingly slowly considering the combined strength of the five rebels.

The rebellion had reached Reichmann Manor.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Pride looked around analytically. The front hall was made entirely out of white marble, filling the room with radiance. Ornate patterns decorated the floor and walls. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, all of its candles extinguished. She noticed with an eyebrow raised that brown patches were on every surface. Clearly, blood had been shed and hadn't been cleaned up. She puzzled over this as she slowly advanced through the room, suddenly desiring to get a better look at her surroundings. She tried in vain to find a path through the dense mob of rebels when an idea struck her.

"Gluttony!" She snapped her fingers twice to attract his attention. "I need a decent vantage point."

The massive bandit understood instantly, reaching down and bending over slightly. She climbed into the offered hand and gracefully kept her balance as she was raised into the air. Bringing his hand up to his right shoulder, he allowed her to dismount, checking to make sure she wouldn't all. She made herself comfortable on the broad metal plate, securing herself using one of the short spikes as thick as her leg protruding from his armor.

Thanking him graciously, she prepared to scan the room when she was almost violently unseated from the shoulder. A firm arm seized her around the middle, holding her fast. Only the knowledge of who would possibly do such a thing prevented her from lashing out behind her. "Gluttony has another arm, you know."

"Mmmm, I know!" Lust chirped, resting her chin on the sniper's shoulder. "But this is more comfortable."

"Did you climb up here on your own?" Pride asked.

Lust pressed herself more tightly against her captain. "Uh-huh. I wanted to beat everyone else up here!"

"I highly doubt that anyone else wanted that honor," Pride drawled. "Though I suppose that does leave his dominant arm free."

"Oh yeah!" the artist exclaimed. "G's left-handed just like you are!"

"G?"

"You know," Lust said emphatically. "I'm L, you're P, he's G and there's A and W and E and S-boring and S-interesting!"

Pride found that despite the gravity of the situation, she still had the ability to laugh at Lust's antics. "And where is S-interesting now?"

"I dunno!" Lust shrugged like a confused child. "You know that when she doesn't want to be found, she won't be found. You know, like a cat."

Pride was about to respond when Lust's eyes flashed with excitement. "Oh look! The big guy's leaving."

Sure enough, Zion and his team were departing down a side hallway. Messiah rode on Io's back, the moose ambling forward at a calm pace. Pride watched as roughly a quarter of the army followed behind him. She briefly wondered how the rest would divide up. General Taylor had mentioned that the troops eventually being led solely by Michael would be small in number, which made his request for her attendance all the more curious. Divining his motives was proving to be quite difficult, though in the back of her mind, she was beginning to see the bigger picture. She had a feeling that she would have many, many questions for General Taylor before the battle was over.

Pushing this line of thought aside, she focused once more on the room around her. Gluttony's height certainly made her job easier. There was just something off about the area that made her feel uneasy. It wasn't that there were more attackers barely managing to conceal their presence, but more like the was a piece to a greater puzzle just hiding beyond her reach.

She was completely distracted as the doors on the veranda overlooking the main hall burst open and a wave of soldiers surged out. Gluttony managed to get his arm up in time, bullets ricocheting musically off of his thick armor. Pride had her silver pistols out in a flash and was squeezing rounds into whoever she could see around the massive forearm providing cover. Without Zion, the rebels were taking more hits than before, but Alpha and Omega had rushed past the forward troops and darted beneath the eaves. Turning synchronously ceiling-ward, they sent air blade after air blade through the floor, decimating the Reichemann soldiers from below.

The end of the balcony budged, sending troops scrabbling to the ground for support. This only made them a better target for Sabbath's missile, which disintegrated the damaged overhang with a single blow. Gluttony reflexively caught a particularly bulky piece of masonry and gingerly moved his right hand to withdraw a thick chisel from his armor.

"Styrkr Smida," he muttered, quickly turning the lump of rock into a vicious spiked ball.

"It's amazing every single time you do that," Lust informed him.

"It's nothing," he replied modestly. "Any bandit who can fight can do it. Some can do it with only their hands."

Lust shook her head stubbornly, apparently forgetting that the bandit couldn't see her. "Doesn't matter. Amazing compared to incredible is still amazing."

"Well thank you. I guess." The enormous man rolled his left shoulder uncomfortably. Lust continued her flattery, but Pride focused on their progression. She used carefully aimed shots to help Alpha, Omega and Deus as they stiffly began finishing off the remaining soldiers. It was a thankless task, but the gunner and swordsmen knew that leaving them alive was too great a risk. Her heart skipped a beat when she thought of one of her crew falling because of her own carelessness. She would never let that happen, not as long as she still drew breath.

She reflected on this as Gluttony climbed smoothly onto the landing. To say the least, she was surprised to feel so strongly on the matter. She remembered speaking such words and thinking such thoughts before, but it had been more mechanical, part of her duties. She had always felt that she had to protect herself form her crewmembers, especially concerning her past, but maybe she was ready to at least divulge what was necessary, what they deserved to know. Maybe she was ready to consider them nakama.

Gluttony came to a halt with the rest of the rebels, who had either jumped up what remained of the veranda or ascended the staircase that hadn't been demolished by Sabbath. Pride cleared her head and focused entirely on the force before them. A large cluster of people, easily as dangerous as the remaining rebels, stood in the main hall. At their head stood a man with skin as dark as night. His outfit, white top hat, white suit, white tie, white pants and white shoes, was unusual for a battlefield. Pride briefly remembered her well-dressed musician, but her eyebrows rose as she figured out who he was and muttered an oath that would have made Wrath proud.

"What is it?" Gluttony whispered.

"The Albino Panther," Pride breathed. "He could be nobody else."

Removing his hand from the gleaming white cane at his hip, the fighter casually removed his gloves, white of course, and tucked them into his belt. "Well, look at all these fine faces before me. My brother, have you come back to reclaim what you believe to be rightfully yours?"

There was no question regarding whom he was addressing. Stepping carefully to the front of the suddenly silent army, General Taylor faced him. "You know as well as I that the occupation of this place is unjust. I would really rather not fight you, but I will if I have no choice. Will you not step back from this conflict and relinquish the hold you so strongly have?"

"Relinquish this to you?" The Albino Panther's hearty laughter echoed through the cavernous hall. "I think not, my brother. I am doing you a kindness here. I will not lie as long as you do not. Would you not extend a courtesy to me to me as well?"

"Courtesy?" General Taylor asked. "At my command, all of my soldiers would attack you at once. Surely, even you would not survive that."

"And yet, here I stand without you even ordering your army stop," he pointed out. "Even the team you singled out to fight me does not step forward to engage me."

General Taylor opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off before he had the chance. "You callin' us cowards?"

The Albino Panther's cheery gaze slid over to Sabbath, who was angrily fingering the trigger of her bazooka. "Nothing of the sort, my sister. I am simply clarifying a fact. The reason behind the fact is not fear, I believe, but a good head for grasping the mood. Taylor and I have some talking to do and I feel so much better with an audience." The white-clad man focused on the leader in question once more. "But as I was saying, I'm surprised none of these folks recognize me."

Pride mentally kicked herself as he shook something out of his sleeve. Buffing it against a nearby soldier, he held it up for everyone to see. It was an amulet as big as his fist, but even from so far away Pride's sharp eyes could identify it immediately. She felt ashamed not to have identified him before but what he held now was definite proof. It was a Jolly Roger, a cat's face with two swords crossed behind it. But there was a long scratch through the center of it, the blue seagull of the Marines imprinted above the line, the black cross of the World Government below.

Her fears were confirmed as Gluttony raised her musician up to his shoulder. Although there wasn't more room, the bandit seemed willing to simply wait until Sloth had spoken his mind. "I can't believe I forgot his name, Captain," he murmured. "I knew he sounded familiar, but this is absurd. Dear spirits, what are we supposed to do against one of the Shichibukai?"

The pirate captain shook her head wordlessly. Seeing the ripple of recognition and newfound cautiousness spreading through the crowd, the Albino Panther's ivory white grin widened. "They're not happy with you, Taylor. They don't want me to let you have this back." He gestured at the building around him. For some reason, Pride suspected he wasn't talking about the rebels. "Are you going to stop me?"

"Think of what the Reichmanns want," General Taylor instructed him. "Think of why you came here. Can you still stand before us with those in mind?"

"Your army would have been dead by now if I did not think of those," the Shichibukai shot back. "But I have a better idea. I will wait in the training hall. Don't pretend you don't know where it is. Tell whoever you have to deal with me to start after me in five minutes. Depending on how long they can keep me entertained, I will play along. When they cease to amuse me, I will come for you. Unless," he added with a twinkle in his eye. "I am unexpectedly subdued."

"Oh, you're fucking gonna be," Sabbath raged. Even the normally placid Alpha and Omega looked annoyed that he dismissed them so easily. The Albino Panther's roaring laughter followed him down the passage leading away from the main hall. His troops started after him, glancing uneasily at the rebel army. When the last of them filed away, General Taylor sighed and raised his eyes to the heavens. When he did not look back down, one by one the rest of the rebels began to stare upwards as well.

The ceiling once held magnificent glass panes. Now, only the bare skeleton remained. Twisted bars curved upwards, having been pushed back by some great force. Through the broken rods, the gigantic clock tower that protruded from the mansion loomed. The massive golden hands gleamed in the sunlight, standing proudly against the backdrop of dark glass diamonds. "Five minutes," General Taylor said hollowly. "Here's a map of this floor. The training hall is right here. Take the shortest route there in five minutes. Not a minute before or less, do you understand, Sabbath?"

"But sir-" the punk began to protest.

The leader finally lowered his gaze, fixing it upon her. "Five minutes."

Sabbath sighed unhappily as she shouldered her bazooka. "Five minutes," came the resigned confirmation.

General Taylor nodded woodenly to acknowledge the agreement. His second nod snapped him out of his reverie and he started walking forward again. The rest of the army, save for Sabbath's portion, began following him, unsure mutterings beginning to buzz softly. Even those who didn't know the amulet could feel the power of its bearer. Pride herself was not as confident about the entire deal as she had been. A Shichibukai! They were some of the most powerful people alive, although this did not seem to prevent Sloth from nearly spitting with distaste when she whispered the title. Clearly, his hatred for Marines was overpowering his love for pirates.

"I don't care how strong they are," he fumed when she asked him. "They are the one group I can't wait for Wrath to get good enough to beat on. It's a shame that we met one so soon. The newspapers usually keep track of the movements of the Shichibukai and Gokyou, but on the Albino Panther, all they said was West Blue. A full fifth of the world for him to be in and we find him on the same blasted island."

Pride was not so sure this was mere coincidence. While she did not dispute the long odds of finding one of the "Government dogs," as Sloth so delicately put it, his presence on the island, in the same mansion as their adversary was not by sheer chance. She had spent enough time eavesdropping on nobility to know when there were important things being communicated between words. She mulled over the brief exchange between the two, replaying the conversation over and over again. She was dimly aware that Sloth was lowered back down, that Sabbath was storming off with her team in tow, that Gluttony was moving forward once more. She felt confident that the bodyguard would protect her if her sharp senses and lightning reflexes failed. With that, she sank firmly into the realm of puzzling and speculation.

Luckily, her sudden introspection went unnoticed, so shellshocked was a good portion of the rebel army. They suffered their worst losses yet as a band of enemy troops sprang out of some hidden entrance. She was almost roused from her thoughts at Wrath's familiar sadistic laughter, indicating that the navigator was finally being unleashed. Wrath had been stuck under Sariputta's careful eye due to his rampage in the dueling room and the monk had been unforgiving in his reprimands. Pride had lost track of how many times Sariputta had simply pushed on Wrath's forehead with a single hand when he grew too out of control, somehow seating him on the ground. The only reason the pirate wasn't lividly trying to rip the silent rebel limb from limb was Deus' light-hearted banter and Sin's occasional appearance at his side.

What did startle her to the point of drawing her deadly silver pistols was the lava that erupted from the floor off to the left. Astonished cries rang out as the lava began to coalesce into a man. To his credit, Avarice reacted the most admirably. His water elemental surged forward, crashing into the Logia user with the strength of a tsunami. While his water was instantly evaporated away and he was sent tumbling to the floor beyond, enough of Excel's lava had solidified to prevent him from completely forming.

"Naga, stay here!" General Taylor cried, standing in place as he ushered his troops on. "The rest of you, move, move, move!"

Pride touched down with cat-like agility, intent on seeing her musician before he had to leave. Waving forward the white-armored bandit, she snagged Sloth's suit sleeve and spun him so they stood face-to-face. "May the seven gods of life watch over you," she whispered in the tongue of her ancestors. "And may your enemies fear your touch." She switched back so he could understand her ending words. "Be safe, Alexander. Do not break your vow of life."

Sloth's eyes communicated his understanding for her seriousness. "I won't forget, Captain. Spirits be with you."

He raised his gloved hand, which Pride briefly clasped with her own gloved right hand. The pirate captain turned and began running with the other rebels without looking back. She had to have faith in her crewmember. No, she had faith. For better or worse, Sloth's life was in Naga's and his own hands. The one she was responsible for was on the shoulder of a man she trusted; the others had her own worries.

The massive bandit slowed so she could catch up, bending over to make it easier to climb back to her perch. She knew she would be back down for Wrath to split up, but three of her strides made one of Gluttony's and his muscles were more resistant to weariness than hers. To summarize, it was smarter to use him as a mode of travel than it was to run on her own.

Sin gently alighted on Gluttony's helmet and glanced down at the two women. "I will not have time to deal with Sloth's and your enemies. Nikolai Reichmann has been sighted down the path that Wrath is going to take."

"Mors take him," Pride cursed, before tapping the white helmet lightly. "Get Envy up here. We all need to talk."

The effeminate man was soon brought up to the shoulder, trembling slightly at the sudden rise. His tremors increased violently as he caught sight of Sin perched ominously on Gluttony's head. "W-w-what is it?"

Pride glanced up at the doctor, who she had expected to depart the instant she said for Envy to be included in the conversation. Dismissing it, she altered her explanation slightly to make it more clear, having initially intended to leave Sin out of it. "I originally planned to have Sin here watch over us in case we needed help. However, it seems like she'll have to accompany Wrath to his objective."

"W's not gonna like that," Lust observed.

"Wrath is going to have to deal with it," Pride snapped. "What this means is that you have to stay close to me. That includes you, Gluttony. Under no circumstances should you wander off without my informed consent. Is that clear?"

Envy was nodding furiously before she finished talking, terrified eyes never leaving Sin's unmoving form. Lust's cheerful agreement nearly drowned out Gluttony's, but the pirate captain knew he had assented. Sin remained silent, looking for all the world like part of his helmet. Only those paying close attention to his head would have noticed her appearance. Pride still preferred it for a variety of reasons that nobody knew of Sin's existence. The element of surprise was the most obvious one, but having Sin's family learn that the sniper had absconded with one of their best assassins would most certainly be problematic. She was not yet ready to deal with the forces they would send to collect her valuable doctor and close friend.

"Whatcha thinkin' about, Captain?" Lust asked breathily into her ear.

Pride realized that her expression had darkened somewhat and quickly adopted a more neutral one. "These are hard times, Lust," she murmured quietly. "I just hope you won't wish the gods had dealt you another lot."

"Stuuuuupid Captain," Lust oozed. "None of is will ever regret coming with you." She tightened her grip into an even warmer hug. "Remember when you asked me to join you?"

"How could I ever forget?" Pride asked, biting back a chuckle. "I was scared to death of frightening off my new friend."

The artist actually did laugh. "Well, when you asked, I felt happy enough to fly. You gotta remember that we have dreams that we'd never be able to see completed without you! Take me, for instance. I'd still be stuck in some dumb church, scrubbing floors all day. I want to see the whole entire world! Sure, I might have other opportunities, but you're gonna be Queen of the Pirates! Nobody's gonna see more than whoever she has with her. Not even Wrath would think of abandoning you now. Did you ever think that he, as wild and unleashed as he is, would ever call you by title?"

Pride frowned. "I believe you were the one who insisted everybody call me Captain."

"You started it!" was the sophisticated retort the first mate came up with.

"I did not," Pride insisted. "And they shouldn't call me that if they don't want to."

"Stuuuuupid Captain," Lust repeated. "We don't call you Captain because we think we have to or because of emotional distancing or whatever, like you're an authority we can't cross." Pride turned her head to stare at Lust in amazement. "The nuns always spouted something like this when a novice became a sister but don't interrupt! We call you Captain because that's how important you are to us."

Pride smiled, a combination of happiness and relief. "I was beginning to think you all had just begun to forgot my name."

"Well, we all did around that swamp island or so," the artist joked. "Spirits above, why is it that you sometimes about to explode with confidence and others more bashful than Envy?"

"All of our crew are such good-" She paused as she reconsidered her choice of words. "Such interesting people. I'm worried I'll let you all down."

Lust's hug strengthened once more. "You'll never do that, Captain! Oop, looks like Wrath is going! Business-mode, activate!"

Pride gently flicked her in the side of the head as she slid off the smooth white armor. But she did do what Lust instructed and pushed all of her self-doubt aside. By the time she hit the ground, she had completely regained her natural poise. As Deus prepared his team to depart, she caught up to Wrath, who was grinning devilishly with anticipation. His green-eyed glare turned to her and his grin widened. "Th' fuck you wan'?"

The pirate captain smiled despite herself. "May the seven gods of life watch over you and the seven gods of death watch your enemies." She realized that Sin had arrived on the ground at some point, standing close enough to Wrath to be hidden from the other rebels by his lean muscles. Returning to her regular speech, she told them, "Both of you, fight together, not each other. Captain's Orders, Damien, you understand?"

Wrath threw his head back and laughed. "Yahahahar! Tha' don' always work, Cap'n!"

"It'd better this time!" she called after him as he used his three functioning limbs to bound after Deus, who was swiftly retreating into the distance. After a moment, Pride looked down at her doctor. "Protect him and stay safe, Raven."

"The same to you, Cassandra." The two women clasped gloved left hands and murmured a soft prayer in their respective tongues. As soon as Pride let go, Sin disappeared in a black blur. The pirate captain didn't even stiffen in surprise as she was scooped up from behind. Gluttony set her back on his shoulder beside Lust, staring after the joyous berserker.

When he did not turn his head back for a while, she sensed he was thinking deeply about something. "Speak your mind, Gluttony."

"Honestly? I wish those two could have stayed with us," he rumbled. "For all his imperfections, Wrath is an incredible righter and Sin is almost perfect. I do not envy whoever they come across."

"Trust me," Pride sighed. "I would not send Sin with him if his opponent were not every bit as dangerous as he. But I see your point. Deus, Sin and Wrath are easily in the top ten fighters in this army. They truly are a fearsome team."

Lust jostled her lightly to show her encouragement. "Gimme a break, Captain. You, me and G are plenty good! Your gunwork is kick-ass, I'm okay and G's one of the strongest in all West Blue!"

"I am not," Gluttony protested.

The former nun banged uncaringly on his helmet. "Yes you are and you know it. You lifted and threw the _Knave_, Sloth told me how fast you can run and you beat even Zion in an arm wrestling contest!"

"That was one time," the massive bandit exclaimed. "And the only reason he didn't win is because the rock we were using all the other times was crushed."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Lust shouted, banging on his helmet again. "You split a rock in a simple arm wrestling contest! Even Wrath didn't do that unless he was intentionally pressing his elbow down or when he slammed his enemy's arm into the rock when he won. Have some pride, man, know what you did was awesome!"

Unable to think of what to say, the bandit turned to Pride for help. "Don't look at me," she stated. "I just got chastised by her too. She's not as good a fighter as I am, but I'll be damned if she isn't every bit as good at using her tongue to get what she wants. I wouldn't be surprised if she managed to scold Lord Zematsal himself and get away with it."

This elicited a round of booming laughter from the enormous bodyguard. "Indeed! I know I shouldn't speak of my Lord in such a way, but I just can't get that image out of my head!"

"Image of who? What are you talking about?" Lust asked, unhappy at being left out.

"One of the lords of Winter Isle," Pride explained. "Gluttony worked for his son and I had the pleasure of trading words with him for our freedom. Watch your step, Gluttony. I don't want us falling off."

The bridges connecting the clock tower to the building surrounding it were thick enough for an ordinary man to cross with ease. Unfortunately, the bandit had to treat it like a balance beam because it was thin relative to him. Pride would have been concerned if he hadn't proved his sense of balance when managing to trade blows with Wrath, even for a short time. She rubbed her jaw as she remembered the feeling of it shattering like glass. She had to remember never to give her navigator cause to attack her again.

"Whoa…" Lust marveled, peering into the gloom. "It goes on forever!"

Pride rolled her eyes. "It does not. That's just the underground. Don't even think of falling in, you hear? You wouldn't survive it."

"Aww… Can Gluttony take me down?"

"I doubt I would easily be able to make it back up," the massive man mumbled.

Lust seemed completely crestfallen until another idea struck her a second later. "How about after the battle?"

Gluttony chuckled. "After the battle, if you're still up to it."

"I will be!" There wasn't a trace of doubt in the first mate's voice.

Pride sighed once more, but soon focused on the winding stairs before them. General Taylor and Michael were taking their time climbing the broad stone steps and what little remained of the army was vigilantly walking a few feet behind him. Gluttony reached up and grabbed a railing, hoisting him and his passengers up with one hand. When he put a metal-encased foot on the banister, it crumpled like tinsel, forcing him to brace against the stone stairs instead. He slowly climbed up in this fashion, pausing each time he climbed up a level so General Taylor remained in front of him.

Lust was clapping happily and Envy was rushing around each time so he stayed as close as possible to his teammates, but Pride's attention was elsewhere. She was staring intently at the rebel leader, pieces of some puzzle clicking into place. Little details became important and obvious ones faded into the background. Her mind was racing furiously, but she knew that she would figure it out when they reached their destination. She didn't know why, but she felt that whatever lay at the end of their road would hold the answer to the questions buzzing around in her head.

This is why, when Gluttony climbed onto a broad platform not halfway up the clock tower, she allowed herself to absorb every piece of information she could see. The ornate door was covered with indistinct swirls and intricate patterns that wound around without seeming to come to an end. Large golden letters spelling out 'LIBRARY' curved above the doorway, marking their objective. This went along with everything she knew from past experience and had learned from the ever-watchful gravekeepers. This was where the Reichmanns would be if they wanted to make a stand.

She looked on as General Taylor pushed open the doors and strolled inside. Gluttony clenched his fists tightly as he prepared to encounter whatever enemies lay inside. Lust appeared as cheerful as ever, but she was gripping her rapier tightly enough to make her knuckles somehow even paler than usual. Envy was fiddling with his cap, his eyes darting nervously from side to side. Realizing what she needed to do, she slid off of the bandit's armor and strode fearlessly inside. There was nothing she wouldn't face with her head held high.

* * *

And so, the Black Glove Pirates are split up to deal with their own threats. I hope this fight will be as epic as I planned it to be.


	53. The Lava Man and the Trickster

I will wager anything that if Zoro isn't able to open his eye, he will get an eyepatch.

* * *

Sloth had no time to stare after the departing crowd. Already, his opponent was sloughing off the cooled lava and materializing fully. Naga was clenching his trident in preparation, eyeing the Logia user carefully. Crucifix was slowly spinning her segmented staff around her body, as if continuing the momentum would repel any sudden attack. Even Avarice was circling warily, hand pressing his necklace of elements tightly against his chest. The rest of the rebels were all trembling with trepidation and anticipation, seeming ready to bolt like frightened rabbits upon spying a wolf.

They had reason to be scared. Excel, when completely formed, was an impressive sight to behold. He was as tall as Naga, thick muscles bulging under his lightly tanned skin. He clenched a hairband in his teeth as he drew his fiery hair back in a ponytail to keep it out of slitted eyes the color of congealing blood. A red dragon tattoo curved out from underneath his black fur coat, its head coming to rest on his forehead. He briefly rubbed the scar over his left eye as he stared at the mass of people confronting him before his face split with a brutal grin.

"We are here to stop you from fleeing for help," Crucifix reported, flowery dress flapping as the wooden segments whirled past her legs. "You will not interfere with the General's work."

"Interfere with his work?" His voice was a bass snarl that sounded like tremors running through earth. "What are you talking about, girl?"

Crucifix's speed increased. "We will stop you here, Excel!"

"Maki Maki no Mizu!" The tall form of Avarice's elemental was rising up behind him once more.

"Ssssshadows of Azsssshara…" Naga exhaled, copies of himself appearing everywhere in the room.

"Eau…" Sloth began channeling his energy into the floor, aiming to create a pool around the Logia user.

Excel merely looked amused at the preparing attackers. "I don't believe you know who I am. Excel, a pirate of old, captured and put into stasis by that brat Vegapunk." He didn't flinch as the side of his face vanished in a burst of lava. "He wasn't happy when his lab was destroyed, but he had enough of his blueprints that he was able to continue with his human preservation program. Unfortunately, there were limits on how long I could be contained. Devil Fruits always reacted strangely to-"

This time, a hole was bored in the middle of his black tank top. He growled threateningly at the offender, a rebel Sloth didn't know by name who was holding his smoking rifle in trembling hands. "Haven't you ever read a story? You must always allow time for a monologue-"

Had he been an ordinary human, it would have been blood that splashed across his dark dress shoes. As it was, small globules of lava hissed as they began eating away at the floor. Excel stared at the two swords lodged in his sternum, completely unfazed by the ordinarily lethal attacks. With a single deep breath, the blades abruptly melted and their bearers dropped the ruined weapons. Chuckling darkly to himself, he swatted the rebels aside, sending them flying with severe burns covering their bodies.

Sloth really wished the weaker rebels would take a hint and let this peculiar man finish whatever he was doing. The fact that he also needed more time to make the pool was mostly irrelevant. "Go on," he called out.

"Who said that?" Excel asked, whirling around to stare at the crowd around him. "I do so appreciate a good sport!"

The image of Naga closest to Sloth leaned down, his voice low and ominous. "Why did you sssssspeak?"

"I've known my fair share of eccentric fighters," Sloth whispered back. "It pisses them off if you don't let them finish. I don't want to see this Lava Man when he's truly angry. Better to wait until he's ready to fight honestly."

"You are weak," Naga snarled softly. "There isssss no better time to ssssstrike than when the enemy issss unprepared."

"Then by all means, do so." Sloth had his water transformation ready, but firmly believed in what he was saying. When he was growing up, more than a few disputes had been settled when both opponents had spoken their minds and indulged the ludicrous dramatics of the other. He also knew that some people had certain activities they did not like interrupted, enough to become far more dangerous than they would ordinarily be. He sincerely hoped Excel was such a man.

"I could have been a Shichibukai!" Excel continued on. "But I didn't want to! I think the stasis fucked with my mind. Here I am, talking in the middle of a battle. A lot of you seem impatient to begin. Well, shall we?"

With a pointed look at Sloth, one of Naga's images lashed out. Excel gave a malicious grin as the Snake Man turned away at the last second, having swerved to avoid the lava seeping out from beneath the fur coat. The Logia user sent a plume of lava rocketing towards a large cluster of afterimages, but the avoided it just as easily. He began flinging molten magma haphazardly about, forcing everyone to flee for cover. Those not quick enough to dodge pushed those not strong enough to fight back into the path of the blistering onslaught. All hell had broken loose.

Fortunately, Naga and his close followers managed to keep their heads. Concluding his attack with a shouted "Magie!" and pushing one last time, Sloth managed to open a pool broad enough for Excel to drown in. While this would have worked perfectly against any other Devil Fruit user, the water merely evaporated around the Lava Man as he fell down into the pit. Not wanting Sloth's transmutation to go completely to waste, Avarice began wrapping the water that hadn't been turned to vapor around his body, his water elemental soon looming almost as tall as the ceiling.

When he reached the skylight, the hooded rebel turned around and pushed as much water as he could onto his opponent. At first Excel simply evaporated it all away, but with the amount of water Sloth had provided, the elementalist could continue his attack for more than just a few seconds. Water began to audibly hiss against Excel's skin and his look of dark glee was replaced with concern. He tried to move, but by that time the force of the downpour was great enough to hold him in place. Naga began slithering sideways in quick hops around the pair, eventually moving fast enough to cool the center even further. To conclude the attack, Crucifix spun in, her segmented staff clattering relentlessly on his hardened skin, followed swiftly by a stab from Naga's trident.

"Shipwreck Vortex!" the four rebels shouted as they finished their combined action. Unwilling to let their weapons be broken or melted, Naga and Cruficifix slid back out of reach, panting heavily from their rapid attack. Sweat clung to Sloth's portly form, unable to evaporate due to the humidity of the air. Avarice retained enough water to hover a few feet above the ground, the foot of his wave-like elemental churning against the heated floor. Breathing was difficult from the slowly dissipating moisture, but they had to recover in case their attack hadn't worked.

Excel's good mood was entirely gone. Hardened shell pieces flaked off as he cricked his neck and rustled his clothes. His eyes and mouth temporarily became three ovens of simmering heat as he turned towards Avarice. "It is time for you to die," he thundered. "Dragon Eruption!"

The hooded rebel barely had time to dodge the enormous dragon's head that rushed past him, tumbling to the side in his effort to stay alive. He formed a thin layer of rock armor using the marble floor, forcefully shedding it a second later to put more distance between him and the tendril that twisted around to target him once more. Excel growled in irritation as Naga's afterimages drew more tightly around him. He was even more annoyed when he was sent rocketing across the room by the butt of the Snake Man's trident, smashing through the ornately decorated wall.

"Do not ssssstop! Twisted Kaldorei!" he hissed as he slid towards the hole in the wall. Avarice rushed after him, using his water elemental to surge forward like a tsunami, with Crucifix hot on his heels. Sloth jogged after them, attempting to conserve his energy. Excel exploded out from behind the wall to meet their charge full-on, globs of magma hissing as they melted through the patterns on the floor.

Naga twisted to dodge the Lava Man, his coils not a finger's breadth from the sizzling fighter. His trident flew down, cleaving a path through Excel's leg. Surprisingly enough, the golden weapon didn't melt and Excel actually curved around in midair to deal with the gash in his thigh. While the wound wasn't bleeding, it had obviously hurt him enough to cause a temporary distraction.

It was all Avarice and Crucifix needed to complete their attack. Wooden rods rapped against his limbs as the grass-haired woman wove her attack around Naga's snake half. The elementalist threw the last of his water as hard as he could at the Logia user, his hand already dipping towards the floor to form his rock elemental. The white stone burgeoned astoundingly quickly as a large crater began to grow in the ground. Excel collided firmly with the leg of the statue-like figure, delayed only for an instant before melting his way through that as well. He rolled on the ground and stood up quickly, twisting around to face his attackers.

Luckily, he had completely forgotten Sloth, for the alchemist hadn't directly launched an attack against him yet. Bringing his trumpet to his lips with a murmured "Trompette Sonnerie," the pirate sent a soundwave strong enough to knock his opponent back towards the other rebels. Avarice had been expecting it and let a thin coating of rock slough off to disperse the wave while Naga and Crucifix were pushed slightly farther backwards.

Excel turned in surprise to the man he had previously assumed to be just support, which meant his attention strayed from where it should have been. With a mighty heave, Avarice caught him in a massive uppercut. Specks of lava dripped from his lips as he plowed through the previously intact skylight. Sloth sent another soundwave to further shatter the falling glass shards, praying that one of his teammates might be able to do something against the jagged broken panes. As if bidden by his unspoken words, Crucifix was among them like they were no more than flower petals, scattering them with several swings of her staff.

He nodded gratefully to her as she landed beside him and skillfully brought her flailing staff to a stop. "Many thanks, my lady."

Eyeing the skylight for any sign of Excel, she let a pleasant smile spread across her lips. "Do not be so modest, Sloth. You did catch him by surprise."

"You were so vehement about keeping him from interfering with Taylor's work," Avarice snapped as he stumped up to them still encased in his rock armor. "Why aren't you chasing him?"

"Exssssssssel would not let ssssuch an insssult againssst him go unpunisshed," Naga snarled at him, slithering quickly to join the group. "Prepare yoursssselvess!"

Sure enough, Excel was peering over the edge of the skylight with a livid expression on his face. Grabbing one of the bars, he kicked off the roof to angle himself towards them. After halting his momentum, he pulled as hard as he could, hurtling towards the remaining quartet. Sloth's soundwave and Avarice's extended rock arm merely bounced off of him instead of diverting him in the slightest. They were barely able to leap to the side as he impacted the ground with the force of a meteor, sending them all rolling along the ground anyway.

"You're pissing me off!" he bellowed angrily, choosing to focus on Avarice. "Dragon Tail!"

As he whirled around, a thick string of lava streamed off of the bottom of his fur coat. Avarice managed to put up his hands to block for only a second before it melted through and cut his elemental in half. Unsurprisingly, his body remained untouched, having ascended until his purple hood almost emerged from the crown of the rock head. Instead of reforming the bottom part, either by absorbing more stone from the floor or by sacrificing yet more of his current elemental, he dispersed it and reached for the spray on his necklace. "Maki Maki no Tsuru! To me, woman!"

Crucifix didn't have time to be surprised or offended by his brusqueness. She leapt onto the viny arm as it whipped by her, the green tendrils wrapping firmly around her feet. To keep Excel off of the pair, Naga began hopping back and forth, his strong coils etching the decorated marble floor. Shards of white stone began to pepper the Logia user, temporarily distracting him. He lunged at the Snake Man, but Naga retreated just as quickly, jabbing with his trident to keep him at bay. It was enough time for Avarice to whirl around, lashing Excel with his left arm. It burned and withered the moment it came into contact with the magma oozing from Excel's skin, but he used it to gain momentum on his extending right arm. Crucifix, who was clenched tightly where his fist should be, was using the constant readjusting and rustling of the vines to spin even more quickly than she could on her own.

"Rampant Growth!" she shouted as her wooden staff clacked furiously against Excel's chest. Amazingly, the glowing orange lava was accompanied by the unmistakable crimson of blood. Furious at his injury, Excel lashed out, but Avarice shifted the fair-skinned woman up his arm and absorbed her into his body. She was just as quickly ejected from his chest, revolving crazily as she attacked the Lava Man relentlessly.

"Protector of Vashj!" Naga's trident impaled Excel through the chest, keeping him in place while Crucifix battered at their adversary. While the segmented staff no longer drew any flecks of blood, the tips of the trident were definitely tinged with red. Excel tried to grab the weapon protruding from his ribs, managing to close one smoldering hand around a prong and melt it off before Naga withdrew it. Unfazed by the partial destruction of his trident, the Zoan user leapt backwards and began replicating himself once more.

Excel wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth as he glared at his attackers. "You're all dead! Dragon Scales!"

Lava began to seep out from under his clothing, soon coating his entire form. Unwilling to let his teammembers come to harm, Sloth bounded forward and blew a short note on his trumpet to clear away a patch of lava. Before Excel could emit any more, the alchemist clapped his hand to the bare stomach and cried, "Pierre Magie!"

He pushed as much of his energy as he could to transmute the man's skin as quickly as possible, but even at that speed his hand was burned. He protectively brought his hand to his chest as he retreated, face contorted with pain. Avarice had switched back to his water elemental and was resuming his earlier strategy of pounding gallons and gallons of water onto Excel to solidify the lava coating his stone skin. Naga was using the two remaining prongs on his trident to jab into the hardened rock and fracture it while Crucifix was orbiting the opponent and landing a hit whenever she could. As the Devil Fruit users were either concentrating their best on keeping up the attack or nursing wounded appendages, the female soldier took it upon herself to name the attack. "Bottomless Depths!"

For a moment, it almost seemed as if this final combination would finally subdue him. However, Excel soon proved that his boast about turning down a request to be a Shichibukai was not entirely unfounded. With one colossal heave, he pushed his arms apart, knocking Naga and Crucifix head over heels. His lava broke through the thick layer of stone coating him and hungrily began evaporating the water elemental. Small gobbets of magma hurtled through the air, some even managing to embed themselves in the combative rebels.

He lowered his head and somehow managed to fix all four of them with his most dangerous glare. "Furnace of the Earth!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Wrath bounded along using his three functioning limbs, propelling himself down the corridor at an alarming speed. His dead left arm trailed uselessly by his side, its constant banging a reminder of what that bastard Madaxe had robbed him of. To make things worse, the armguard weighed nearly as much as his arm did and the spikes kept digging into the ground as it bounced. If it weren't for the fact that even with the interruptions his incredible strength continued to move him forward without being impeded in the slightest, he would be spitting with rage.

He leapt higher than normal and dug his claws into the ceiling, using them to twist his body along the corner. He had found that this was one of the easiest ways to turn a corner without losing any of his speed. Beside him, Bhavacakra hopped up to roll on the wall, using the wheels where his feet should have been. He was easily keeping pace with the navigator, though Wrath knew speed was his main asset. The Wheel Man wasn't terribly strong, but he was fairly agile and it was no mean feat to keep up with the pirate going at top speed.

Ahead of both of them raced the lithe form of their attack leader. Deus was having no problem running on his steel geta, somehow outstripping them both. His overly-long katana was tucked easily underneath one arm, the other limb streaming behind him for speed. He was grinning easily at the prospect of the enemy ahead of them, not with anticipation, but with the knowledge that everything would be all right. His chest still ached from the wounds he had gotten while fighting Wrath, but he treasured it like he did all of his scars. It proved he had fought a worthy opponent.

"Where are we going?" Bhavacakra asked mildly as they rounded another bend. "I'm not getting tired or anything, but if we go for much longer, those behind us won't catch up until we're done fighting."

"Look, we're going against some guy called Nikolai Reichmann 'The Trickster' and I don't think the battle will be easy," Deus responded. "From what I hear, even the three of us will have some trouble dealing with him. I don't want the others to get too badly wounded because we couldn't subdue him in time."

"Yer both fuckin' pussies," Wrath growled, bulling through a makeshift barricade the Reichmanns had put up. "'T's all this talk o' pertectin' an' shit? We came t' figh', no' t' 'elp nobody."

Deus rolled his eyes. Wrath was sometimes relatively reasonable and easy to deal with, but other times was completely irresponsible and single-minded. He marveled at Pride's ability to deal with him as a subordinate and wondered what everyday life was like with them. She and her crew seemed like a decent lot to be around and half of them were particularly good fighters. "What's it like being with Pride?" he inquired, deciding to continue his train of thought out loud.

"Ah?" The fighter looked confused. "You mean, Cap'n?"

"Yes, her." He somehow didn't find it strange that Wrath didn't keep track of his allies' nicknames.

Wrath managed to shrug despite using one arm to move and keeping the other still. "Th' fuck you talkin' 'bout? She's me Cap'n and tha's tha'."

"What he is trying to say is that he does not understand your question." All three of them slid to a stop at the sudden voice. Wrath doubled back and lunged at the black-clad woman who had somehow appeared behind them without anybody noticing.

Deus raised his eyebrows as the pirate passed through her like she was an illusion, landing heavily on the floor beyond. "And who might you be?"

"I am Sin," she droned. "I am here under Pride's orders."

Sensing that Wrath had some strong feelings about the petite woman's presence, the swordsman unsheathed his long katana and held it firmly between them. Wrath glanced at it, then at her, finally deciding to turn around angrily and slam his fist through the nearest wall. "What do you mean, on Pride's orders?"

"Pride has assigned me to team up with Wrath to deal with Nikolai Reichmann," she deadpanned.

When no further explanation was given, Deus resheathed his sword and grinned. "Well, if you can catch up to us, you're welcome to fight. Think you're strong enough to lend a hand when we need it?"

Faster than even he could react, the tip of something sticking out of her wrist was tickling his throat. He was amazed that a girl who barely came up to his chest could emit such a dangerous aura. "Wrath does not get along with me because I am a better fighter than he."

"No, I 'atchya cuz yer a back-stabbin 'arlot," he grumbled.

"I guess that's a yes," Bhavacakra managed, staring nervously at the newcomer. "Please, shall we continue?"

After staring at them for a long time, Deus nodded and took off again. Wrath was jumping after him the moment his foot had hit the floor and the Wheel Man kept up with remarkable ease. The swordsman frowned as he realized he couldn't hear Sin following and turned to look. She was sprinting in midair above Wrath, occasionally vanishing to keep up with the three. He barely had time to register this peculiarity when she dropped down onto the navigator's back and perched there like a bird of prey. Surprisingly, all Wrath did was extend his wings slightly, which allowed him to glide further with each long bound.

"I thought you didn't like each other," Deus said conversationally.

Neither one responded to his statement.

"So how do your powers work?" he tried again. "Are you Devil Fruit users or…?"

"Wrath is a summoner of angry spirits whose bones have been transmutated into metal by Sloth and his wings were granted by shamans," Sin murmured.

Deus nodded hastily, having already learned part of it from the portly alchemist. He waited for her to divulge the source of her abilities, but she remained silent on the subject. Giving up on the pair and turning to the one he knew was a Devil Fruit user, he asked, "So how did you eat your fruit?"

"You like to talk." Sin's statement almost seemed like a reprimand.

"Where's the harm in learning about your friends while there isn't fighting to be done?" Deus shot back. "I can talk while running and I know these two can. You're not even working right now."

"If the girl wants silence, I think we should give it to her," Bhavacakra ventured.

"Fine…" Deus sighed unhappily as he simply pushed aside another barricade. He had a feeling they were rapidly approaching their target, but he still felt the need to talk. It was a way of relaxing before or after fierce combat that soothed his worked-up nerves. At the same time, he knew that if Sin was correct about her comment (though she had given him no reason to doubt her) he shouldn't do anything that might annoy her and drive her off.

They eventually reached the end of the long, twisting corridor, which opened out to a glittering bright hall. Deus averted his eyes as he unsheathed his katana again and held it ready. Bhavacakra whipped out a pair of sunglasses and placed them over his face. Damien was used to bright flames and Raven never reacted when it wasn't necessary, so neither of them moved an inch. Fortunately, most of the mirrors filling up the room simply reflected the sunlight onto the floor, which was made of white marble like the rest of the manor.

"Well, look what we have here?" a reed-thin voice called out. "Four little busy bees buzzing to find the flower they seek. It's a shame, such a shame that they wandered between the two stems that bear a spider's web when there were so many other paths to take. What do you think, Tarantula, should Nebula Spider eat them slowly or all at once? I don't want to be a pig, after all."

"Can it, Nikolai," a faintly mechanical voice replied. "These don't look like mere honeybees. Look more like wasps to me."

"Wasps, bees, flies, mosquitoes," the first sang. "They all get tangled up in a spider's web."

Bhavacakra was spinning around on his heel wheels, trying to see everywhere at once. "Show yourselves, cowards! We'll show you insects!"

Two people arrived before them, both in very peculiar manners. The first, a man whose shaggy blue hair concealed his eyes until he shook it away, ambled around until his reflection was present in the mirror closest to them. His black turtleneck and black jeans clung tightly to his form, but he carried no visible weapon. He peered interestedly at the quartet as if analyzing a new specimen for him to examine. "Greetings to you all. I am-"

"Nikolai Reichmann." The second leapt over from the other side of the hall, landing heavily in front of them. This one was entirely encased in a mechanized battlesuit, its bulky armor plates bulging out from his actual body. The rectangular eyes glowed softly as it surveyed them, whirring slightly as the neck rotated. The letters TAM were stenciled onto its shoulder, XXX beneath them. "And I am Tango of the Otan Mercenaries. Please state your name and rank so we may know who to report on."

"Deus, Bhavacakra, Sin, Wrath," the swordsman said shortly, pointing at each fighter in turn. "But you're in our way, boys, and we need to get through. Iai: Kami no Chikara!"

He reappeared on the other side of Nikolai, but somehow the man had simply vanished from sight. Sin quietly gave orders as she flitted to each rebel in turn. "Wrath and Bhavacakra, take Tango. Deus and I will eliminate Nikolai Reichmann."

The berserker's face split in a demonic grin as he launched himself at the mercenary, who eluded him with practiced ease. The Wheel Man darted forward and managed to land a blow by spinning his arm on the hard metal head covering, but to no avail. Tango merely swatted him off as if he were no more than a gnat and turned his attentions to the flaming navigator. "I have read about you, Damien a.k.a. Wrath. I will make you pay for what you did."

"I ain' done a fuckin' thing t' ya yet, cocksucker," the sadist laughed madly. "Butcha shit outta luck if ya thinkin' 'bout givin' a fuckin' repor' on me!"

Sin and Deus left them behind as they nimbly raced through the labyrinth of mirrors. After losing sight of Nikolai for a moment, they hopped onto the tops of the reflective panes and began searching for their elusive opponent. All of a sudden, Nikolai was in front of them and swinging his hammer around with all his might. Even Deus' superb reflexes couldn't move the swordsman out of the way fast enough to avoid the attack. Sin barely dodged in time, spinning around as the attack rushed by her. The hammer shook with a small explosion as it impacted Deus' side, sending him flying towards the mirrors below. Nikolai alighted the ground as he smashed through mirror after mirror, littering the ground with shards of glass.

"And that was my Minehammer," he told Sin as she appeared behind him. "Flat Mode!"

Inexplicably, he vanished from in front of her. Sin kicked off into the air and grabbed onto one of the metal bars holding the skylight in place. She hung upside down as she tried to figure out what had just happened. She had thought she knew every single person who was faster than she was, but evidently her information was false. What's more, she hadn't even seen him move. He had simply been in front of her at one moment and gone the next. If she was going to even lay a hand on him, she was going to need to figure out how his abilities worked.

Her attention was attracted to the pair rolling on the ground directly below her. She flitted over to them, waspknives held at the ready. Upon reaching the pugnacious duo, she hesitated as she saw two Deus' locked in combat. It was plainly evident which one was the real one, for the impostor's body type was wrong, but it was enough pause for something to hit her square in the back, knocking her to the ground beside Deus.

"Himimimimi!" Delighted laughter seemed to come from all around them. "How do you like that? Two insects caught in a web they can't even see."

"This guy's starting to piss me off," Deus muttered.

Sin kept her eyes on her surroundings. "He has the audacity to taunt us. He also has the skills to defeat us. We must find out how to defeat him."

"Aww, it looks like you're stuck without hope." Nikolai's jeering tone changed from an accurate imitation of Deus' voice to Sin's. "Let's see if you'll struggle and make the web tighten around you."

Sin was swept off her feet and launched into the air. Deus was after her in a flash, knowing that Nikolai was making his move. He paused when Sin reached the apex of her flight and another black shape with flowing black hair was hovering beside her. While the shape was half as tall again as the actual Sin was, it halted the swordsman temporarily. The black-clad pirate lashed out with her waspknife and would have connected had Nikolai not just vanished with that same impossible speed.

"Akat." Sin blinked back down to the ground, only to be sent skyward once more by a punch to the chin. As she hadn't been prepared for it, the blow was almost as painful as anything she had experienced in a long time. She tried to turn around in midair, but another blow knocked her to the right. She did manage to avoid the next three attacks using her ability to dodge attacks like paper on a breeze, but the fourth sent her crashing back to the ground.

Half a second later, something smashed into the ground beside her. Deus gave a wet cough, turning his head so he could smile woefully at her through bloody teeth. "This won't be as easy as we thought, eh?"

"Get up, flies!" Nikolai teased. "I know that's not all you have. Who knows, you might even get a chance to see the rarely-seen Nebula Spider before your insignificant lives are extinguished!"

"Nebula Spider?" Deus asked quietly as he used his katana to push himself to his feet.

"I am assuming he is referring to himself," Sin replied. "Akat."

She sped back above, feeling that the only place she would be able to catch Nikolai or at the very least figure out what he was doing was to stay off the ground. She barely managed to whisper "Kraur Golnauk" before she felt another punch slam into her body. Luckily, she had steeled her muscles and the attack simply bounced off. She managed to catch a glimpse of her opponent, who was now attempting to imitate Bhavacakra, before another hit landed on her stomach. This too was repelled with ease, though she couldn't deny it had stung slightly. She curled up into a ball as he began attempting to break her defenses, observing him through slitted eyes. She was being batted about the room like a playing ball, but she was remaining relatively unharmed, even when she rebounded off of one of the walls.

_He is no stronger than Heike Reichmann,_ she thought as Nikolai tried swinging her around by the hair and slamming her against the skylight. _I have endured worse attacks than this. It is his speed that is the problem. Cassandra mentioned that he marks out his territory and cannot be evicted from it. There must be something about this hall that is not present in other places. It must be_-

It came to her in a moment of clarity. Unfortunately, Nikolai had enough of not being able to subdue her through physical strength and had resorted to his weapons. "Minehammer!"

Even with her tightened muscles, the explosion rattled her to her very core. She plowed into the metal bars of the skylight and stuck there, limbs hanging limply as shattered glass fell around her. Nikolai appeared before her, once more wearing the shaggy blue hair of a true Reichmann and smiling evilly at her. "Little mosquito thinks it can suck the blood out of a spider. But once anything is caught in a web, nothing is faster than a spider!"

_Nothing is faster_… She felt the warm dampness of blood spread through her mouthguard as she shook from the blow to her stomach. Nikolai laughed he hung from the ceiling with two toes, using his other three limbs to batter at the trapped pirate. Far below, Deus was trying weakly to get back on his feet. "Nothing…" she whispered through the thick liquid flooding her mouth.

"Huh?" Nikolai paused, believing the woman before him was no more threatening than the swordsman below. "What was that?"

"Nothing… is faster," Sin breathed. "A trapped bird… cannot escape a web."

"Oh, so you think you're a bird, do you, mosquito?" Nikolai giggled. "Well, I guess I'll let you call yourself a bird. You struggled much better than insects usually do and flew higher and better than insects can. But even birds fall prey to the Nebula Spider. Tell me, blackbird, have you realized your fate?"

Sin's emotionless black eyes bored into his pale yellow ones. "But no matter how strong… a spider builds its web… a forest fire… can turn it to nothing."

With that, she summoned every bit of energy she had and lashed out with her foot. A shining air blade flew out and soared through the air. Nikolai avoided the attack by vanishing, leaving Sin stuck wedged in the dent she made in the metal bar. When he reappeared, he was holding up a cluster of blue hairs between two fingers. "I must tell you, blackbird, you're the first that's come this close to getting me. But even the sharpest of talons cannot cut through a web, only making it tighter."

"A deluded man… who cannot see between the lines," Sin murmured, feeling her leg slowly loose sensation. "You were never… my intended target."

An enraged roar shook the hall, dislodging a few more pieces of glass. Sin, like her musical crewmate, had been forced to learn the hard way that her captain always thought everything through. She had done her homework and gathered every piece of information she could to make the best decisions possible. Nikolai was indeed fast, faster than Deus, faster even than Sin, but he lacked a very important aspect of a fighter.

Raw power.

Nikolai screamed as he barely avoided the ball of fire that seared his back. It missed Sin by inches, but melted the metal enough for her to push free. Conserving her energy, she fell limply to the floor, only halting her momentum as she was about to land on the myriad of glass shards. Deus looked as if he had survived by the skin of his teeth, jagged pieces of glass a hairsbreadth from his flesh in some cases. He hauled himself to his feet and looked down at her optimistically. "I hope to hell you have a plan."

"I do," she said laconically.

"Well?" Deus gasped, holding his katana at the ready. "Care to share it with me?"

"I have the secret to Nikolai Reichmann's abilities." Sin blinked to get a stray bit of blood out of her eyes. "I know how to defeat him."

* * *

I know some people were looking forward to this chapter. I certainly had fun with it.


	54. The Fisherman and the Reichmann

This arc is turning out to be quite a lengthy one. I think the word count will be higher than the rest of my story combined. I'll have to check at the end.

* * *

"Coo-ee!" Lust exclaimed as she followed her captain into the room. "There's gotta be a million books here! No, a billion!"

Pride did note the large number of books, though by her estimate the real number was closer to a few tens of thousands. The room was enormous, concentric shelves stretching up through the ceiling. The roof above their heads approached the shelves, but stopped just short of the wooden monoliths. This allowed for the ladders scattered helter-skelter on the shelves to slide by easily and enabled anybody who knew exactly what book they were looking for to climb to it regardless of what floor they were on at the time.

"We're going upstairs," Pride muttered. "Gluttony, jump up to the next floor when we're almost there."

Ignoring General Taylor as he wandered into the mass of bookshelves, Pride walked to the nearest ladder and began ascending it. A quick glance down revealed that Envy was right on her tail and Lust not fair behind. As she reached the top of the ladder, she held on tightly as she felt her large crewmember slide it over to the next one. Nodding thankfully down to him, she began climbing the next one, soon reaching the next floor.

"Why're we coming here?" Lust asked energetically, eyes still round as she craned her neck upwards to see how far the shelves extended.

"Many reasons," Pride told her. "The first is to clear out any enemies that might be hiding up here. The second is because this is a good vantage point. The third through the tenth don't matter, but you should pay attention to anybody around you."

"Don't worry," Gluttony murmured, crouched down to help them onto the stable ground. "I don't think there's anybody here."

"I don't think so either," Pride whispered back. "But nothing's certain. Come, we're going to the middle."

The second floor, and presumably the third, fourth and fifth floors as well, was identical to the first floor in terms of layout. As the bookshelves stretched to the tops of the clock tower, though the gears for the device were hidden by thick wooden planks, the floorplan was the same. Pride stalked through the maze with practiced ease, occasionally glancing down through the openings by the shelves to ensure the rebels were still below her.

"Why would they build a library beneath a belltower?" Lust inquired. "I've seen that bell and there is no way it's quiet down here when that thing goes off."

Envy was the one to answer her question this time. "It's actually quiet in here. You don't…"

He trailed off as Gluttony fixed him with a stern stare. "And how do you know this?" he boomed.

"Because he's a Reichmann too," Pride said offhandedly. She turned and frowned up at him as he prepared to throw the spiked stone ball he had made earlier. "Oh calm down, Gluttony. Do you think I would let one of them into our midst if I suspected him to be a traitor? He's not a threat to us, you can be sure of that."

"D-does that mean you kn-know what Sin did to me?" Envy asked, shrinking away from the aloof cowgirl.

"All I know is what she told me." Her frown deepened as she caught sight of his evident fear. "Why? What did she do to you? She didn't hurt you, did she?"

"N-n-no!" Envy stuttered. "Nothing like that. She just, um, questioned me m-more forcefully than I expected-d."

Pride nodded solemnly. "She does sometimes go a bit overboard. Well, I'm sorry for whatever treatment you received. I hope it wasn't too bad."

"N-not at all," Envy assured her.

The sniper sensed there was more that he wasn't telling her, but she let it slide. She trusted that whatever interrogation Sin had done was thorough enough to reveal any treacheries he might be attempting to hide from them. At the same time, she hoped that the curvaceous doctor hadn't done anything past injecting him with truth serum and asking him that way. She didn't need a teammate who was completely terrified of her.

She came to a halt as they approached the center of the room, where a giant hole had been carved in the floor. This area was free of bookshelves, luxurious couches and chairs spread out for any reader to enjoy. A gigantic pendulum swung to and fro above them, the solid gold reflecting the bright sunlight streaming in through a myriad of windows. Curiously enough, there weren't any bookshelves in a wide path to their left, either. The floor was lacking in that swath as well. It was as if a giant section had fallen through and nobody had bothered to replace it. The emptiness led to a single desk up on a pedestal of sorts, sitting in front of a wide window. Through it, Pride could make out the path that led up to the mansion itself, along with several halls with massive skylights and the city beyond that was embroiled in conflict.

General Taylor was circling the desk, his fingers tracing the lacquered wooden edges. The rest of the army was gathered in the central area, watching as he slowly walked around the rectangular furniture. Michael was staring expectantly at him along with the others. Sariputta was settled in a chair, carelessly reading from the tome he carried with him at all times.

"What's going on?" Lust breathed.

"I have a bad feeling, I know the answer," Pride responded quietly. "Just sit tight and be patient."

General Taylor finished his pacing and settled down on the chair behind it, looking out over R. Capital. After waiting for a moment, he swiveled around and faced the rebels gathered before him. "Is it not grand to see the fruits of our labor? Is it not fantastic to know that we now hold what could be considered the throne of Reichmann Island? The only place more fitting would be beside the bell atop this tower, but there unfortunately isn't enough room for us all up there. It would defeat the purpose if you were not here to share in the glory with me."

"What glory?" a rebel shouted out from amid the rabble. "We haven't even seen a single Reichmann. I thought you said they were definitely going to be here."

"Oh, they are here," General Taylor mused. "But I doubt they would come out of hiding so easily. It seems they must be threatened to make an unwise move or some trickery must be used against them. Perhaps… a show of force. Who of you joined me simply for the coin? After all, money has to be earned somehow. Come on, don't be shy. I think no less of you if you volunteered to join me knowing that I would pay more to those choosing the more difficult path."

He waited as hands began rising into the air. He paused to ensure that everyone who wanted to raise their hands did, his eyes even flicking upwards to scan the rebels who had climbed to the second or third stories. "I see. And who joined only, for the sole purpose, with no other intent than to free this island from the oppressive regime of the family known as the Reichmanns?"

Quite a few more hands flew up, Lust's included. The first mate nudged her captain, who firmly kept her hands on the railing. Whatever game General Taylor was playing, she wasn't going to be a part of it. "I see," the rebel leader said loudly enough for everyone to hear. "I will assume those who did not raise their hands either time have ulterior motives, but that matters not to me. What matters is that we have seized the palace out from under the Reichmanns! We have triumphed!"

Faltering cheers ran through the crowd, though nobody seemed wholly confident. "But sir!" one yelled. "We haven't truly taken the palace! Look, there's the Lava Man you mentioned to us earlier. I think only a few people are left standing right now!"

"But we have seized the seat," General Taylor persisted. "We hold the head; the rest of the snake will follow. If we go now, we will-"

War cries rang out as doors flew open and soldiers flooded into the room. The rebels were quick enough to respond, for most of them had already been on edge from the apparent ease they had in taking the library. General Taylor leapt into the fray and began whirling his spear in wide circles, catching friend and foe alike. Sariputta and Michael were the only ones who ventured close to him, flowing around his lunges and sending out blows of their own. Pride whirled around to see soldiers sprinting towards her, guns blazing as she fired with deadly accuracy.

Her eyes widened as an enormous man stormed into the middle of the room, his green and white battleaxe cleaving through rebels with ease. Most men came up to his knee, enabling him to kick them through bookshelves without breaking a sweat. The sniper groaned as she realized who he was, praying to the gods he hadn't noticed her.

"Hey, Captain!" Lust exclaimed. "Isn't that the guy from Summer Isle? You know, the axe guy's brother?"

Derrick Madaxe must have had hearing far sharper than Pride had anticipated, for he turned his head around to look at them. The shock in his eyes was quickly replaced by rage as he recognized her and he swatted the rebels around him in his rage. "You fucking whore! What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Gluttony, I know I said never to split up, but please can you deal with him?" Pride said as quickly as she could when Madaxe simply deflected the bullets she sent in his direction with his massive axe. "He's annoyed that I killed his brother and definitely wants to get me for it."

The bandit nodded and leapt into the air, metal-covered hands clamping tightly around the pendulum hanging above them. With a single squeeze, he crushed the metal bar and wrenched it free, spinning it upside-down so it became a massive mace. Jamming the spiked stone ball onto its butt and pounding away at the weight to flatten it out somewhat, he landed amid the rebels with a groundshaking crash and faced his opponent. "Revenge is not something a man should kill for."

Madaxe knew that this man stood between him and his target and bared his teeth in response. "Revenge is something a man should die for!"

Pride watched as General Taylor fought his way over to a bookshelf, then began climbing it by stabbing his spear into the aged wood. His two friends were close on his heels as he led them away from the massive brawl. Pride knew she couldn't let him get away. The instant he arrived on the second floor and didn't stop climbing, she bolted for the nearest bookshelf and began clambering up the ladder. She had transferred over to the ladder continuing to the third floor and was almost three-quarters of the way up when she heard a scream from below her. She looked down and immediately froze.

Lust had somehow been yanked off the ladder and slammed back onto the ground. Envy was torn between helping her and following Pride, mirroring the conflict raging in the pirate's own mind. Knowing that even a split-second of hesitation could be fatal, Pride made her decision and prepared to leap off when she heard Lust shout, "Go, Captain! You need to follow him! I'll be fine!"

She nearly cried with anguish at the request, for it made the conflict within her just that much stronger. As much as it pained her, Lust was right. She did need to pursue General Taylor. She had figured out what was wrong and needed to confront him. Angling her neck more downward, she fixed her eyes on envy and yelled, "You stay and help her! I'll be fine on my own!"

The effeminate man nodded and let go of the ladder, landing in time to kick away the man about to impale Lust. Pride sent off a couple shots to help them steady themselves, then determinedly began to scale the ladders after General Taylor. _I must trust in them_… She ran the thought through her mind as she got farther and farther away from her allies. _I must trust in them_…_ I must trust in them_…

She couldn't think that Sloth might not survive against the unstoppable lava of Excel. She couldn't think that Wrath and Sin might lose to the uncatchable speed of Nikolai Reichmann. She couldn't think that Lust would lose to whatever enemy she encountered. If she did, it would be like admitting their deaths. They were strong enough to pull through. If they were strong enough, so was she. She had to resolve the problem with General Taylor. There were facts he had to deal with. There were questions he had to answer.

And she would get those answers. Even if it cost him his life.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Go, Captain!" Lust shouted as she realized that her captain might actually choose to abandon her objective to help the first mate. "You need to follow him! I'll be fine!"

She truthfully didn't know how fine she would be. She had been climbing up the ladder after her captain when she felt something grab onto her chainmail and pull her to the ground. Having experienced rougher falls before, she simply bounced to her feet and drew her rapier. She began beaming as Envy saved her by kicking the enemy she hadn't seen, turning to grab him in a hug with her free hand. "Nice to see you could make it!"

"Be serious, Lust. The enemies don't look very nice." His seriousness was somewhat diminished by his nervous pallor and the sweat on his brow.

"Did you hear that, lads?" a man said, emerging from behind them. "We're not very nice. How does that make you feel?"

The mob slowly surrounding them gave hoots of laughter, rattling their swords together and leering evilly at them. Envy stood back-to-back with Lust, spinning slowly while trying to keep track of all of them at once. "D-don't try anything st-stupid now!" he warned shakily.

"Don't try anything stupid?" the nearest one said. "Okay. This ain't what I consider stupid!"

He lunged towards them, weapon hoisted above his head. He swung sword down, only to have it deflected to the side by the point of Lust's rapier. He grunted as Envy whipped his body forward, index finger landing firmly on the attacker's chest. He gave a cry of shock as he was sent flying through the air, bouncing off a bookshelf and to the floor below.

"Hold hard there, lads," the man from before admonished. "How about you join our friends on the floor above us? I gotta feeling these two ain't pushovers and you all owe me money for doubting that Taylor would make it here."

Grudgingly, the crowd around them dispersed, some climbing up the ladders to the next level, other making their way back towards the stairs. The lone man remaining walked forward, cricking his neck in preparation. Many fishing lures were attached to the grimy canvas of his hat and vest, his plaid shirt barely containing his bulging muscles. "I'm Jonas or whatever, but my real name's Roland. I'd like to let you both live, but that's not gonna happen now."

"Wait, what?" Lust asked, straightening from her en garde position. "You're _that _Roland from the speech a few days ago? Why are you fighting us now?"

"Let's just say a difference of opinion," he grinned. "It's a real shame, though. I'd hate to go destroy a face as lovely as yours."

"Then don't!" The bookshelf beside them burst apart in a flurry of splinters and loose pages. Envy unconsciously wrapped his arms around Lust to protect her, not even wincing as the slivers of wood peppered his bare arm and hand. When the wood subsided, he found himself staring at a girl who couldn't be more than ten years old. She was absentmindedly playing with her yo-yo, sticking her tongue out as she made it spin through the air in a series of intricate tricks.

Roland sighed disappointedly. "Oh. It's just you, Nessie. Why are you here?"

"Daddy said I could come out and play!" the little girl said brightly, manipulating her yo-yo to have it dance upon her messy blue hair. "He said he was coming back today! And as he says, a Reichmann always keeps his promise. Seismic Yo-yo!"

Lust dove to the side as the yo-yo impacted the ground with the force of a cannonball, punching a hole clear through the floor. Suddenly, how Nessie had entered the fray became painfully obvious. Yanking her beads off of her sheath, she began whirling them in slow loops as she watched the two fighters warily. Envy had managed to avoid the attack as well, coming to his feet off to her left.

"I'll take the pretty lady if you want," Nessie offered.

"Nah." A wicked smile was spreading across Roland's face. "It don't matter. We'll take both of 'em on. Cast!"

He threw his hand forward and Lust instinctively parried, only to find out that he hadn't even thrown anything. He simply had his arm out in front of him as if waiting to shake hands. She tentatively got back into her ready position, as she waited for him to make an actual move. Bowing graciously at her, he exposed all of his yellowed teeth as he smiled with pleasure. "It's no fun if the fish don't bite, you know. Throw!"

He lifted his hand up and a second later, Lust was jerked into the air with a cry. She almost lost her beads and rapier in surprise, but managed to hang on to them. She was slammed into Envy upon returning to the floor, knocking them both over. Roland shook his finger at them as she tried to rise to her feet. "You got to fight if you want to make it. Reel In!"

Drawing his hand back, he began moving his thumb in circles. Lust was helplessly tugged towards him by some unseen force. Watching as he balled his other hand into a fist, she realized what he was doing and decided to counter his expectations. She darted forward and leapt over his head, avoiding his punch entirely. She landed behind him and flashed a cocky grin. "Better luck next time. Santo Yo-Yo!"

Torquing her body, she sent her fist flying towards his head. He was a good enough fighter to try to avoid her blow, but Lust had been training her move until it worked flawlessly. That same wide-eyed look of astonishment her captain had given the first time she had been subject to the attack spread across his face. By the time he saw that her beads were around his head, her fist was slamming into his temple. He managed to push her aside after the third consecutive blow, but by that time Envy was ready to whip his finger into Roland's chest.

"All right!" the first mate bubbled as the fisherman was knocked head over heels. Her cry of jubilation turned to one of pain as something smaller than a fist hit her ribs. Her eyes squeezed shut as she felt something give and a spasm of agony flickered through her. She stumbled backwards into Envy's arms as she gritted her teeth in pain.

"Damn you!" the oddly-dressed man cursed.

"And what was I supposed to do?" Nessie protested, cocking her head to the side. "Let you beat on old Rollie? Uh-uh! See, now I'mma have to mess you up!"

Lust put up her hand, forestalling any complaints Envy would voice. "I like you, Nessie! You're not afraid to stand up for your friends! But there's just one big problem!"

"Oh yeah?" the child asked. "What's that?"

The first mate grinned. "I got to stand up for mine! Taco de Billar!"

Despite her possibly broken rib, she lunged forward rapier-first. Nessie swatted aside the rapier with her yo-yo and threw it at the first mate. Envy tried to catch it with his hand, but recoiled as he felt something snap. He stared at the index finger angled awkwardly backwards, blood draining out of his face. Lust nearly burst into tears when she saw it, grabbing his free hand and hastily retreating onto the railing. "What?" Envy gasped. "Why?"

"Not for me," Lust cried. "You didn't have to do that for me!"

"I wanted to," he responded. "Pride has had enough time. Let us fly!"

Turning around, they leapt off into space. For a moment, they simply hung there, Lust's cloth jacket and Envy's purple cape floating as they began to fall. But it was not to be. The artist felt something catch onto her back and pull her back onto the floor. She curved her neck backward to see Roland winding his thumb again, a satisfied look on his face. She quickly scrambled to her feet, only to barely avoid Nessie's yo-yo a second time. Her rapier flashed around as she attempted to cut the string, but the little Reichmann simply zipped the toy weapon back into her hand to prevent any damage befalling it.

"Hyah!" Envy shouted, the air cracking as he whipped his unbroken finger at the opposing pair.

Lust used their temporary delay to leap onto the side of a bookcase, jumping off of it to gain additional height. "Sagrada Baraja!"

She thrust repeatedly at Nessie and Roland as she soared over them, sending her sword's spirit down at them over and over. The former cried out as pinpricks of blood began appearing on her skin, but the fisherman simply shrugged off the attacks. He waved his hand and brought her back to the ground with that unknown invisible force. He jerked his arm back and she skidded towards him, futilely grabbing at the wood floor. She did manage to roll to the side to avoid Nessie's retaliatory yo-yo attack, but Roland's fist to her injured rib caused her to scream in pain.

"Lust!" Envy shouted, skipping forward and whipping his foot around. With a loud _snap_, the bulky man was sent tumbling away, bowling Nessie over in the process. The effeminate rebel helped Lust to her feet, watching worriedly as she tried not to put pressure on her wounded side. "Are you okay?"

"Less talking, more fighting!" Lust yelled desperately. As much as she enjoyed chatting with her friends, she knew that they had to press the advantage they had on their enemies while they still had it. But it was too late. Roland was already shooting to his feet, an expression of livid fury stamped onto his face. Curving his fingers to more closely resemble claws, he threw his hand out and violently wrenched it back. Envy shouted out as four ragged lines tore across his exposed bicep and clapped his hand to the bleeding wounds.

But Roland wasn't finished yet. He brought his other arm around in a large upwards arc, indicating an attack from above. Shrieking like a banshee, Nessie came down with her yo-yo similarly extended over her head. Fortunately for the rebels, the attack was reasonably avoidable. They slid out of reach as Nessie's yo-yo impacted the ground, punching clear through it with the force of a bullet. The wood cracked and splintered, revealing the stone supports underneath that crumbled beneath the powerful blow. If they hadn't avoided the attack, their chances of survival would have been slim.

"Seismic Yo-yo!" the child screamed, whirling it around like a lasso. Lust pushed Envy towards the distant fisherman and sent her beads flying out, tangling the little Reichmann's arm and disrupting her attack. The toy weapon still struck her in the leg, but it was nowhere near as potent as the unprotected attack would have been. She slashed Nessie in the hand with her rapier, attempting to prevent her from using her weapon. The young girl twisted her fingers back in time, though a lengthy gash tracing the back of her thumb to a bit beyond her wrist began oozing crimson liquid.

"Abalorio Corbata!" Lust hollered, wrapping her beads around Nessie's neck and pulling hard. Nessie began flailing around, her limbs battering ineffectually at the pirate's fierce grip. Her yo-yo slammed repeatedly into Lust's unprotected back, but without any guided force behind it, it was no more dangerous than the punches Lust had received during sparring. The child eventually gave up attacking and concentrated in trying to pull the beads away from her beck. Her strength was no match for the first mate's and she eventually began turning blue.

Just before she managed to choke the child into submission, Lust felt fingers roughly tangle themselves into her hair. Her head was yanked backwards, then smashed into the bookcase. Her limbs turned to liquid as she fell to the floor, eyes closing halfway as she threatened to lose consciousness. She watched as Roland rushed to check Nessie's form, almost weeping with relief as the child's chest continued rising and falling normally. Coughing heavily with tears in her eyes, the Reichmann brought her hands to her throat, massaging the points where the beads had dug in painfully deep. Bruises were already beginning to form, indicating the pressure Lust had put into the attack.

"Shall we finish her off?" Roland asked tenderly, her hands hovering unsurely over the recovering girl.

Nessie opened her mouth, then her eyes fell upon the arm the fisherman had been attempting to hid behind his back. His limb was completely broken, white bone protruding halfway between his shoulder and elbow. Her face turned red with rage as she shakily extended her fingers towards the gruesome wound. "No. No, she's not going anywhere. I'mma be fine, you're not gonna be! He needs to pay!"

Roland nodded and extended his uninjured arm to Lust. "Don't be goin' nowhere, lass."

He bobbed his hand up and down, forcing her to execute a similar motion. She groaned in pain as she collided awkwardly with the ground, books raining down upon her. She watched through lidded eyes as the duo approached Envy, who was dazedly getting to his feet and eyeing them fearfully. Roland cast out his hand and yanked it back, sending Envy flying towards them. In a surprising burst of agility, he leapt up to meet the fighter halfway. He caught the side of Envy's face in a powerful slap, causing him to scream in pain. The reason for his agony became evident almost a moment afterwards.

Three jagged lines had been torn through his cheek and nose. The fourth had shredded his eye.

The effeminate man screamed as his hands went to clasp his disfigured face. This prevented him from seeing the yo-yo Nessie threw in his direction, which came into contact with the fighters shin. Lust winced as the bone snapped in half not unlike Roland's injury. He landed on his feet, but crumpled the instant he hit the ground. He wasn't sure whether to deal with his face or his leg, choosing to put a hand on each. A book fell before the first mate's eyes, temporarily obscuring her vision, but she feebly pushed it away with a hand covered in paper cuts.

In the small time she hadn't seen anything, Nessie and Roland had arrived at the crying form of Envy. Nessie dispassionately began driving her yo-yo into his body with cruel sluggishness, making sure he had time to feel every blow before the next. Lust felt tears run down her face as his legs were broken, then his arms, then his ribs. The fisherman picked him up with his uninjured arm, holding them face-to-face.

"You're an abomination, Heike," Nessie told him, so softly Lust almost didn't hear her over the roar of the brawl around them. "A half-blood like you should never have been allowed to live. It is time to do what should have been done years ago."

Envy turned his eyes to the ceiling, all of his emotions draining out of his face. "Pride… I'm sorry… I l-"

Roland tossed him high with all the strength he could muster. Lust would never forget the sight of her friend's broken body twirling slowly in midair. She vowed never to forget his nervous laughter. She vowed never to forget his attempts at pleasing Avarice. She vowed never forget the comfort and devotion he showed Pride. She vowed never to forget the interest he had in Sloth's music or the fearful respect he had for Wrath or the admiration he had for Gluttony or the kindness he had for herself.

She would never forget the sound of the yo-yo shattering every bone in his neck.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Four fours."

Zan glanced underneath his own cup, curling his lip with displeasure. Three of his five dice were fours; he was reasonably sure one of his two companions had at least one four. Uri was staring steadily at him while Ral checked his own dice once more. The dim pool of light cast by the carts' lamps was enough to illuminate their playing area. It was not uncommon for gravekeepers to find some way to pass the time, especially when waiting for the bodies that would inevitably fall from the high ceiling. "Five fours."

The oldest gravekeeper, a stooped woman with a lazy eye, puffed on her pipe as she reclined in her cart. "The end of the rebellion is coming. As soon as they are removed from R. Olympus, there will not be another for many years."

"Ann, there's no reason for them to fail," Ral disagreed. "They have one of the Shichibukai and that government experiment more or less on their side. There's nobody in Reichann's army even near that level. Five sixes."

"Not true," Zan growled. "They have powerful fighters of their own. Didn't you hear about that swordsman who took on the Imperial Guard on Spring Isle and near tore up the entire place?"

Uri gave a light laugh. "Fool name, Imperial Guard. Spring Isle isn't even an empire. Six fours."

"Still, they'd better watch out for them." Zan peeked at his dice again. "Seven fours. This battle is going to be bloody no matter who wins."

* * *

I'm beginning to like these gravekeepers. They're kind of fun.


	55. The Battle Rages On

This chapter is a bit hectic, but I wanted to get all the perspectives in at once.

* * *

"Taylor!"

The general never ceased watching the city below boil with conflict. He stood proudly on the edge of the tower, feeling the clock below him grow gradually slower. It felt like all of his tension was being slowly released as he stared at the sun shining on the sea at the edge of the horizon. His spear was planted at his side, stuck deep in the hard rock. Michael and Sariputta were standing beside him, both staring out over the chaos. He had a feeling he knew who had followed him, but felt there was no danger in ignoring the voice for now.

"Taylor, you fiend! Listen to me when I'm talking to you!"

"Well, if it isn't little miss Pride," he said loudly. "There is fighting to be done below. Why, may I ask, are you up here?"

He turned to see the cowgirl climbing out from underneath the bell, not looking weary in the slightest despite her hurried climb to pursue him. She stood up straight and fixed him with an even glare, the wind rustling her long shirt slightly. She kept her thumbs tucked in her belt, indicating that she was ready to fire at a moment's notice. Clearly, she had something to talk to him about. "Do you know who I am?"

"I must admit, it took quite a bit of digging," General Taylor shrugged. "You should know better than anyone that the gravekeepers are loyal to nobody, assassin or noble. Sure, they have their code of never betraying their clients, but one gravekeeper's client is not another's. Imagine when I heard that the heiress herself had arrived to the island in the guise of a simple rookie and had even joined my rebellion."

"This is no deception," she snapped. "I am no longer a World Government marionette dancing to some fool's invisible strings. I am my own woman and I have my own dream to fulfill."

General Taylor cocked his head to the side in puzzlement. "How odd that a pirate should take interest in a rebellion such as mine."

This statement prompted her to unholster her pistols and point them at him. Instantly, Michael had his own sword drawn, razor-sharp edge aimed at her head. Sariputta moved barely an inch, but he too was ready to take action if necessary. "Do not lie to me, Taylor! I've had enough of your bullshit. I know all about your dirty little secret!"

"Secret?" Michael asked. "The fuck are you talking about?"

The gunslinger gave a sardonic grin. "Oh, he doesn't know? But Sariputta does; I can see that much. How do you think he'll react when I tell him?"

"Tell me what?" Michael shouted. "What's she talking about, Taylor?"

"It beats me," General Taylor replied with a shrug. "I'm curious myself to see what delusion she has come up with."

Pride gave a derisive laugh. "While you did your digging on me, I did my digging on you. You covered your tracks well, Taylor. However, you were just a bit too overconfident. I truly didn't get it until you gave your little spiel down there in the library, but it all makes so much sense now. I'm frankly amazed that you pulled this off so well with such a paper-thin disguise, but I suppose that's just to show how exactly you managed to manipulate this city.

"First of all, this rebellion was fishy from the start. Nobody takes up arms against the Reichmanns for such a brief amount of time then makes a last stand. It's not possible to have that short a conflict with them. You either succeed in breaking their grip of the World Government sends troops to eliminate a threat to one of their most profitable islands. But you managed to rally such a motley crew of rebels, even reaching out to pirates and brigands when there weren't any other soldiers to get. But that was just it. All of the previous rebels had been either killed or gone missing in action. In fact, nobody in the rebellion had been there for more than a week. Now that's peculiar, isn't it? Where did they all go?

"Second, there was the small matter of exactly who we were going against. The Albino Panther, one of the Royal Shichibukai, dropped some not-so-subtle clues that all was not well in the state of Reichmann. If he were truly sent by the Government, he wouldn't have given such a generous offer to play with Sabbath and her group before coming here. Even though Shichibukai are known for their whimsical nature, they still follow the orders they're given. After all, that's part of the perk, isn't it? A single task every once in a while in return for unwavering loyalty? He was just a bit too willing to stand down and play your game.

"But then there's this conquering of the tower. There's no way the Reichmanns would be hiding here. They wouldn't risk letting their precious archives get damaged. No, this was the work of a single man who wanted to feel something he had lost, to feel like he had truly returned home. You wanted to be back in your seat of power, didn't you Taylor?"

"Is this going somewhere?" Michael snarled.

Pride shook her head. "And then there's your arrogance to deal with. You wanted everyone to feel stupid for believing you so much. So you chose the most thinly-veiled disguise you could think of. Blue hair and pale yellow eyes? Reichmann native. Lack of codename for yourself? You already had one. In fact, you deliberately chose an anagram of your own name so nobody would suspect. Taylor Monchstein can be rearranged into Tolstoy Reichmann."

Michael froze at this. Restraining himself from shaking even the slightest bit, he turned to the general and whispered, "Is this true, Taylor? You're Tolstoy Reichmann?"

"I suppose the cat's out of the bag," the cunning Reichmann shrugged. "You've figured me out, Cassandra Negras. The question is, what are you going to do about it?"

"You're the one who drove my father to drinking and my mother to suicide?" Michael raged, swinging his sword above his head. "I'll kill you!"

The armored fighter was sent head over heels as Sariputta stepped between him and the blue-haired man. Seething with fury, he shot to his feet, only to have the monk slam him into and through the stone floor. Without a backwards glance, Sariputta leapt after him, intent on finishing off one of the most powerful soldiers in the army. This left Tolstoy Reichmann and Cassandra standing alone in the belfry, eyeing each other warily. "Our covers have been blown," the general said idly. "It must be a fight to the death, then. If word got out that General Taylor was actually the leader of the Reichmanns, problems would arise."

"And if you betrayed me to the general public, every assassin in West Blue would come after me," Cassandra finished.

"It is lucky that neither of us have a vested interest in the murmurings of the common rabble," the Reichmann stated, "and it is best for the loser if they did not survive."

"And since I will be Queen of the Pirates, that loser must be you! Voluntas Carnae!" Cassandra had her ancestral pistols drawn and the ready in the blink of an eye. She fired off a few rounds to test the waters, retreating quickly as she shot. Tolstoy deflected each bullet with a swipe of his spear and chased after her. She scampered up the smooth side of the bell, using the ornate landscape carved into it as hand- and footholds, and clambered onto the thick wooden spar. She had to hastily sidestep to avoid the spearhead erupting from the wood beam, backing farther down the length.

"Come back here, girl!" Tolstoy shouted, leaping onto the beam with ease. "Stop prancing about like some monkey!"

Cassandra was sorely tempted to ask him about why he seemed more childish as Tolstoy Reichmann than Taylor Monchstein, but she couldn't let herself get distracted. Holstering her left pistol and drawing one of her throwing knives, she threw herself forward, firing indiscriminately with her right hand. Tolstoy swatted aside the bullets with ease and met her charge with the butt of his spear. She slid gracefully under it and stabbed upwards with her knife, only to be caught in the side by an armored foot.

Grunting with pain as she hit the stone ground below, she began questioning the train of thought leading to her engaging the rebel leader single-handedly. She wasn't allowed to question it for long before Tolstoy landed beside her and began jabbing at her with his spear. Falling back into the groove she had grown accustomed to using when in a situation where each blow could be considered fatal, she ducked and wove with practiced agility to avoid the onslaught. Similarly, he was avoiding the bullets shot at him and kept her too far away from him for her to use her knife.

"I can keep this up all day, Negras!" he shouted after a particularly wild swipe. "Do your friends have that long? Do you have that long?"

"Saggita Diania!" Firing off one final bullet, she backed towards the hole Sariputta had made leading to the top story of the library. If she didn't have the skills to meet him head on, she would use the combination of her litheness and the crowded bookcases to overcome his defenses. Tolstoy saw what she was doing and began circling his way to intercept her. After a particularly fierce stab that she had to use all of her strength to push herself away from, she hit the ground and rolled to her feet, knife and pistol held defensively in front of her.

This was going to be harder than she had originally anticipated.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Is everyone okay?" Crucifix shouted as she came out from behind the pillar.

Sloth coughed as he shakily climbed to his feet. He had been most fortunate to avoid most of the explosion, though blobs of lava had splashed close enough to sear him with their heat. He looked down with mild surprise as half of his trumpet clattered to the floor, a hole melted clear through the middle. With a sense of mild regret, he turned what remained of his instrument into water and dribbled it past his lips. While he had no particular attachment to the brass trumpet, it had served him well. It was fitting that its last use would be to refuel his body.

"I'm fine," Avarice informed them, solidified lava suspended in his water elemental.

"Bassssstard got me." Naga slithered up in his full-snake form, then morphed back into his hybrid. His face was even more frightful now with the blackened hole where his right eye used to be. He didn't appear to be concerned with the injury itself, his expression one of rage rather than hurt. He picked up his damaged trident and gripped it fiercely as ever, indicating that he was ready for another round with the Logia user.

Excel was standing in the middle of a large crater that hadn't been there before. White marble ran like syrup to form a pool around him, bubbling as it came into contact with his body. He stared up at them through eyes filled with molten fury and clenched his fists until they shone. Glowing lava streamed from underneath his clothes, another indication of his rapidly building fury. Clearly, everybody was still willing to fight and was itching to resume the conflict.

Crucifix was the first to move, her segmented staff moving so quickly it nearly vanished from sight. Excel cricked his neck from side to side and spat out a ball of lava large enough to encompass her head. Avarice surged towards her, turning aside at the last second in an attempt to catch Excel by surprise. Crucifix would have been killed had Naga not sped to her side, knocking her out of the way and ducking beneath the attack.

The flowery woman was too composed to berate the elementalist on his selfish actions, choosing to turn her attentions towards the threat before them. She followed closely in Avarice's wake, holding the very edge of her weapon in an effort to extend her reach. Naga fully turned into a snake, his trident stuck point-first into the floor. Bunching his coils tightly together, he made one explosive hop sideways, rocketing towards the Logia user at an alarming speed.

The three rebels hit him almost simultaneously. Or at least, they would have had Excel remained standing still. Dissolving into liquid rock, his torso shrunk alarmingly, yet somehow he managed to support his limbs and head. A spiteful grin disfigured his face as Naga and Avarice barely managed to avoid colliding with each other. His grin was literally smacked off his face as Crucifix lashed out, her wooden weapon gouging off his jaw.

"That hurt," he managed to growl when his face reformed. "Dragon Tail!"

All of a sudden, his body returned to his original size and a plume of lava exploded from his backside. Naga was out of the way in time, but Avarice was forced to descend to the bottom of his water elemental to avoid the attack. Water evaporated into steam, which quickly dissipated into nothingness as the vapor fled from the destroyed figure. Instead of attempting to reconstruct his elemental, the Paramecia user skipped backwards, his fingers going to the floor once more. "Maki Maki no Ishi!"

The stones tumbled around his limbs like a rockslide in reverse, soon cloaking the richly-clad man in white marble. Inhaling deeply, he stumped over to his ophidian teammate and extended his arm. "Come to me."

Naga's breath departed through his fangs with a sinister shushing sound. Eying the elementalist distrustingly, he nonetheless slithered up the stone limb and coiled tightly around his teammate's blocky head. Avarice began lumbering towards the Lava man in great, loping strides. He swept his hands out to scoop up his other two allies, ignoring Crucifix's shout of protest. Planting both of his feet firmly on the floor, he launched himself up and belted out an attack. "Rush of Elements!"

He first thrust Sloth towards his opponent, intent on mashing the alchemist against the searing lava. Hoping that what he was about to do coincided with Avarice's unspoken plan, Sloth transmuted the arm into water, slipping out of the grip and rolling along the floor. The liquid evaporated almost instantly against Excel's skin, but enough solidified for Naga to thrust his head forward with incredible speed. Venom glistened on his fangs as he sunk them into Excel's hardened neck. Before the Logia user could even react to the bite, Crucifix was hurled forward to lash out with her segmented staff.

"Ow! Fuck!" He pushed them all backwards with an expelled wall of magma and clapped a hand to his injured neck. He took his hand away to glance at his injury. The dragon tattoo was punctured in two places on its body. One was rapidly transforming into a dot of lava, but the other remained and began leaking blood. "That hurt, you son of a bitch!"

"My poisson can ssssssslay a normal perssson in minutesssss," Naga coldly informed him. "You might lassssst longer."

"If I'm going down, you bastards are coming with me!" he screamed angrily. "Furnace of the-"

"Eau Magie!" A shallow pool not a foot deep appeared around his feet. It was instantly vaporized, but his short fall distracted him enough to be bowled over by Avarice's stone punch. The elementalist lit into him with a calm fury, deliberate punches splattering lava across the floor. Naga morphed back into his human appearance and wrenched his trident from the floor, spinning it dangerously behind him. When Excel shoved the Paramecia user off of him with a spout of molten rock, Naga stabbed him right between the eyes, causing him to adopt a stunned expression. Wrenching the trident in an effort to cause maximum damage, the blue-painted man kicked Excel in the face to free his weapon and skided back out of reach.

Excel melted temporarily into a puddle of lava, but soon formed his human body once more. The rebels were about to attack when they realized his attention was not where it was supposed to be. Instead, it was focused on something on the other side of the damaged skylight. Avarice seized the opportunity to attack, but his punch simply went through the Lava Man without causing any harm whatsoever. Surprised that Excel didn't even react at the unexpected blow, the other three fighters decided that what he was looking at merited their attention as well. At least, for a moment.

There, on the distant edge of the clock tower, the recognizable form of General Taylor was lividly stabbing and slashing with his lance. However, seeing the rebel leader was not what gave them pause. A figure that Sloth could identify anywhere was dueling with him, silver pistols flashing in the sunlight. For some reason or another, Pride and General Taylor were fighting to the death.

"What does she think she's doing?" Crucifix wondered aloud.

"Wasn't she with you?" Excel asked, his ire evaporating for a moment. "I saw her talking to you."

Sloth frowned as all eyes turned to him. "She is my captain. She must have a reason for engaging General Taylor in combat."

"General Taylor?" Excel spun on his heel to face her. "Who the hell is that?"

"It matters not," Avarice snapped. "He will pay my wage and any woman who stands in his way stands in mine."

The portly musician fixed a wary eye on him. "Be careful, Avarice. If you even think of betraying her-"

"She betrayed us!" he shouted, giant stone arm flung out wide. "She clearly deserted us!"

"Think ssssssstraight," Naga exhaled. "I have had many converssssationsss with Pride. Shhhhe would not sssssswitch sssssidesss without a good reassson."

Avarice would have none of it. "I fight for myself! If you're staying with that traitress, you're going to have to go against me! For General Taylor!"

The Zoan user hefted his trident and hissed angrily at his new opponent. Sloth truly didn't want to fight Avarice, but if the man left him no other choice… He would do what was necessary to end this conflict as quickly as possible. Excel looked uncaring, only concerned with taking out the enemies who meant to eliminate him. The only one who remained undecided was green-haired Crucifix, her weapon dangling harmlessly at her side.

"Well, woman?" Avarice roared. "Where do your allegiances lie?"

Four pairs of eyes fixed upon her. Raising her chin defiantly, she made her choice. She turned and bolted towards the distant clock tower.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"Diavolo Gorilla!" Wrath's opponent shuddered slightly as the punch impacted his chest, but remained standing up. The navigator's blood was almost boiling with rage. The fighter in the mechanized battlesuit had called in reinforcements, fifty men and women whose sole purpose was to eliminate him and his partner. They had partially succeeded; Bhavacakra's limp form lay sprawled against the far wall. Whether or not the Wheel Man was dead didn't matter in the slightest to the berserker. What mattered was there were fifty-one people out for his blood and he was doing his best to keep them from taking his life.

Well, the number was closer to ten at this point. He had clawed his way with ease through the weaker members, but the remaining mercenaries were proving more difficult to kill. The fact that they had landed several painful hits on his person complicated matters somewhat. Blood had flowed into his left eye, obscuring his vision. Half of a lance protruded below his lower-right ribs and a sword blade was stabbed through his left shoulder bones. He knew from past experience that removing the embedded weapons now would cause him to bleed out even more quickly. So he merely fought with the hindering pieces of wood and metal, considering them fair handicaps against his adversaries.

"Take him down! Take him down!" came the panicked cry of man before him, desperately hacking away with his axe.

Bullets bounced off his skull as the mercenaries instinctively shot at the weak point for humans and fishmen without metal bones. Hooking the curved spikes of his armguard around a man's sword with a painful flick of his shoulder, he disarmed the surprised mercenary and turned his throat inside out. Whirling about, he sent the disfigured body flying into the path of another attack, blocking a few attackers and giving him a brief respite to gather his strength once more.

Again, he sensed something careening towards him from behind and expanded his wings to receive the oncoming attack. It broke upon the metal appendages like water against rocks and he knew immediately that his crewmate was trying to attract his attention again. While he had sent a ball of fire in her general direction the first time and had ignored her the second, he felt that he should find out why the fuck she was attacking him. He knew her better than to believe she was just randomly sending out air blades with her feet. She would never perform an attack she hadn't perfected unless there was no other choice.

Turning around, however, he found that Tango and a few of his subordinates obstructed his path. Well, he wasn't one to leave undefeated enemies stop him from finding out what Sin wanted. Inhaling air deep into his lungs, he threw his head forward and shouted, "Diavolo Drago!"

The blast of fire morphed into the vague shape of an animal as it soared towards the gathered mercenaries. Tango put out his hands with a series of mechanical whirrs and clinks, palms outward to reveal two nozzles in the center of his limbs. Wrath had heard Captain mention this type of weapon, flamethrowers attached to arms of battlesuits, but Tango had taken it a step farther.

Twin plumes of faint blue crystals puffed out of the openings, floating forward amid bursts of compressed air. Wrath's hackles rose as the cloud completely neutralized his breath of fire, tiny flecks dispersing with the rush of air, but still cold enough to suck all heat out of the fire. It was as if the mercenary had chosen this weapon solely to counter the navigator and his flames. He probably had, with the intel he kept spouting about Wrath and his fellow pirates. The leader was remarkably well-informed, something that the berserker intended on remedying along with his insistence on staying alive.

"Diavolo Toro!" Propelling himself at the group, he began whirling around, throwing punches and kicks randomly. The front two mercenaries crumpled beneath his onslaught, but another stepped in front of him and began parrying his moves. He bared his razor-sharp teeth as the flames licking his limbs surged powerfully and the defending man began to retreat with every blow. He was soon overcome and had to be rescued by two more men wielding curved scimitars.

"Clear a path!" Tango called. Wrath roared with frustration as the fighters hop-skipped backwards and let the man in the battlesuit step forward. Try as he might, the raging sadist hadn't managed to land more than a glancing blow on the mechanical armor. While his talons had managed to carve several deep gouges in the smooth metal plates, revealing sparking wires that had given him small jolts, he hadn't managed to penetrate to the core and rip out the vexing pilot.

He had little time to contemplate this before a metal fist crashed into his face, sending him tumbling along the ground. Righting himself with a powerful twist of his body, he skidded to a stop on his three functioning limbs and snarled bestially at the mercenary leader. He eyed the slashes on the battlesuit's abdomen with irritation. He had penetrated through the first layer, only to find that the human body inside was protected by some metal harder than steel. The only type of metal he had encountered in his life that compared to it was the metal his friend had transmuted his bones to.

"Wrath!" came the alarmed shout from somewhere above his head. "We could use your help here!"

His dreadlocks flew in a large arc as he whipped his head around. Deus was limping towards him, using the long sheath of his katana to hold himself upright. The berserker bellowed back incoherently, his rage scrambling the words on his tongue. How was the man he acknowledged as his almost-equal failing to deal with that scrawny shrimp from earlier? His feelings towards this question overcame his need to destroy Tango and his troops.

"Diavolo Rinoceronte!" Bulling through the mercenary trying to obstruct his path and rolling to the side to dodge Tango's strike, he leapt at the swordsman.

"Oh no, you don't! Minehammer!" One second and he was flying free and clear. The next, the enemy Deus and Sin had been facing was before him, swinging a large sledgehammer around with all his might. The change was faster than anything he had ever seen, and he had been training with Sin for quite some time. He took the full force of the attack, an experience which did not go like he had expected.

He was prepared for the metal head impacting his clenched muscles. What he was not prepared for was the explosion that followed, rippling through his body in a fierce series of shockwaves. The might of the attack was enough to bring him to a complete halt in midair. Had he not trained his body against taking strikes from opponents like Deus and Gluttony, he would have been split in half.

He landed heavily on the ground and lay there for a moment, too stunned to move. This moment's hesitation was enough for Tango to catch up to him, landing a ferocious punch directly into his wounded stomach. His body convulsed and he felt a wave of blood gush up his throat. The mercenary landed another strike directly on the broken lance, driving it through his side, but Wrath's grunt of pain was drowned by the crimson liquid in his mouth.

"It is no surprise you were able to defeat Darren Madaxe," the mechanical voice issued forth from the battlesuit. "But he stood on his own. It simply took numbers to take you down!"

"Ah'm no' down ye'," Wrath grumbled, pushing his way to his feet.

Tango reached down and grabbed his throat, gears protesting fiercely as he lifted the heavy pirate. "A battered dog who doesn't know he is defeated. Perish, Wrath."

"Mah name…" the warrior snarled through clenched teeth, "ain' Wrath!"

"It does not matter." The navigator's throat clenched shut as the battlesuit's palm exuded the blue crystals once more, covering his skin. The intense cold was enough to elicit an agonized howl if Damien had been able to draw breath. His fingers clenched around the mechanical arm in a vise grip, but even his strength was not enough to crush the thick metal.

He felt Tango slam him into the ground. The last thing he saw before his eyes flickered shut caused his rage-gripped brain to recoil in disbelief.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Several stories below the dueling leaders, Lust was fleeing for her life.

Her first instinct had been to rush to see if Envy could be saved, but though no sound had been able to leave his bloodied lips, he had been able to mouth the word 'run' before Nessie had broken his jaw. The twisted girl had kept his body suspended with a series of powerful blows. When she had missed or Envy had twisted in an unexpected direction, Roland had been there to hoist him back into the air. They appeared to have forgotten the terrified first mate in their zeal to completely crush the effeminate man and she intended to use their lapse in concentration.

However, it seemed like their pleasure was short lived. The instant Nessie gave another hacking cough, Roland had turned to where the artist had been moments before. Howling madly, he began looking around for her, hand snapping through the air and sending books flying crazily away. Once Nessie recovered from her coughing fit, she began helping him search, yo-yo slamming into bookcases and demolishing large sections. They worked themselves into a frenzy as they tried to find their elusive prey.

Unbeknownst to them, Lust was quivering behind a bookshelf a few aisles over. Wet vomit had covered the floor to her right when she remembered the sight of Envy's broken body finally hitting the ground. In the back of her mind, she made a connection to her dark-skinned nakama and the tales Sloth had told about his brutal fighting style, but she hadn't ever been around when he was truly riled up. In fact, the only time she had seen him fight completely without holding back was when he had fought that axe guy back on Summer Isle. The thought brought another wave of bile up her throat and onto the floor.

Wiping her mouth, she also shook her head in an attempt to rid her eyes of tears. The salty liquid continued to stubbornly flow from her eyes as she remembered her fallen friend. After gathering a bit of her composure, she scuttled down the aisle to rest behind another bookshelf. She tentatively peeked out around the corner, her fearful blue eyes hidden behind limp orange bangs. Upon catching sight of the destructive vortex that was Nessie Reichmann and Roland the fisherman, she ducked back and forced herself to breathe in a more regular pattern.

She summoned up a little of her agility and began clambering gracelessly up the ladder in an attempt to put more distance between herself and her hunters. She made it halfway up before the bookshelf gave a mighty shudder, nearly dislodging her from her perch. With all the nimbleness of a jungle monkey, she leapt to the next bookshelf and slid sideways along it, foregoing the ladders completely. She lost her footing once or twice when she trod on a loose leaf of paper and almost fell repeatedly when her hands grasped a book instead of the firm wooden shelf.

"Found her!" The shout arose from the din surrounding her like a death call. Fear spurred her limbs to move more quickly than before and she found herself practically taking wing as she tried to escape. She managed to pull herself onto the third floor, rolling away from the edge frantically. Her breast heaved as she glanced from side to side, trying to figure out what to do next.

Stumbling to her feet, she began sprinting down the aisle towards the wall. The floor burst apart the instant her foot left the ground, a familiar bloodied yo-yo spiraling menacingly in the air. She staggered, but managed to keep her balance despite the floor crumbling slowly around her. Another hole appeared a few feet to her left, which was a mild relief despite the stressful situation. It meant that Nessie and Roland knew her approximate location, but were just guessing where she actually was. Turning on her heel, she sped back to where she had come, glances over her shoulder revealing them continuing down the aisle. She almost laughed with liberation as she turned a corner, believing that her luck might be running better at this point.

Then Roland appeared on the railing overlooking the central area, a wicked smile on his face. "Boo!"

She screamed in terror and lashed out with her rapier. He let the point catch on one of his lures and tear it off, slowing her momentum enough for him to grab the weapon with his bare hand. Ignoring the blood beginning to drip off his fingers, he kept his grip and began pulling her relentlessly towards him. Lust had a fraction of a second to decide between keeping or leaving the rapier she had been given as a gift so long ago. She was reminded of the time before she had met Captain, when the most she had to worry about was a stern talking-to and maybe a few days worth of chores.

"No!" she shouted. "I'll never regret it!" Wrenching her arm backwards, she managed to work the sword from his grip and begin running again. As she half-expected but had really hoped wouldn't happen, she was yanked off her feet and slammed onto the floor. That mysterious force dragged her mercilessly towards Roland, no matter how her fingers fought for purchase on the stone floor. In an attempt to throw him off, she rolled backwards onto her feet and lashed out with both her rapier and her beads.

This maneuver actually caught him by surprise. He automatically flinched away from the beads striking his face, enabling her to solidly connect with his broken arm. He let out a howl of pain and brought his uninjured hand back to grab at the bone protruding from his arm. In a fit of despair and insanity, Lust ran past him and threw herself into midair. She didn't have a chance of landing on the second floor, but she just might be able to land on Gluttony's gleaming white armor. She saw with some surprise that it had been torn away and now lay scattered about on the floor. Her surprise turned to alarm as she saw that everything on his upper body had been ripped away as well. Her alarm was replaced with pride as she saw the white tattoo on his back. From what she remembered, that was the mountain he had sworn on a few days back.

Her rapid thoughts were brought to a halt as she felt something wrap tightly around her leg. She looked down in time to see Nessie's yo-yo bang painfully on her leg, fortunately having lost enough force so the bone remained unbroken and the skin intact. This bit of good news paled in comparison to the fact that she was being pulled back towards the people who wanted to destroy her as brutally as they had her friend. She tried slashing at the string the little Reichmann was using to bring her back, but her rapier simply bounced off.

"Glad to have you back," Nessie wheezed when the first mate hit the ground, snapping her yo-yo back into her hand. "The party wasn't as much fun without you."

"Carta Volando!" Lust cried, thrusting out with her rapier. Nessie recoiled as her finger began oozing blood, which gave the artist enough time to begin running once more. Lust didn't care if she was being cowardly or craven. She knew when she was outmatched and fighting was futile. She just had to find one of the rebels she knew would help her. So, wrapping her beads tightly around her wrist, she bolted for the nearest batch of fighters.

"Get back here you… you… pusillanimous woman!" Nessie shouted.

"Cast!" Roland asked conversationally as he threw out his hand to snag the first mate once more, only to shout with fury when she managed to avoid him. "Pusillanimous? Where did you learn that?"

"Right here!" Nessie panted as she ran, holding up a scrap of paper.

Lust cartwheeled through a cluster of combatants she didn't know, managing to grab a pistol hanging from one of their belts. She began firing inexpertly over her shoulder as she ran, trying her best to aim every shot. Not a single bullet hit a person due to her wild inaccuracy. This did have the desired effect of forcing her two chasers to take cover, which was good enough for her. Turning sharply, she jumped over the railing once more, hoping that this time, she would make it down.

As she twisted in midair, she saw Roland come out from behind the bookshelf and shout something. He thrust his hand out, and everything slowed to a crawl. She finally saw how he managed to move things without even touching them. A fishing line ran along the back of each of his fingers, all four ending in a reddened hook. While this epiphany was useful, it didn't help her figure out how to avoid them in midair. She pulled the trigger of her pistol again, but she had apparently run out of ammunition. Her muscles wouldn't move fast enough to bring up her rapier to deflect the hooks.

She knew she wouldn't last if he caught her.

Unexpectedly, her momentum shifted to the right, spinning her head around. She heard a bellow of frustration from Roland, but was more concerned with what was happening to her. She soon realized she was being carried bridal-style by another person, and her mind tried to figure out who. The only person she could think of was Captain, but she was supposed to be fighting that general guy. She looked up to see a face temporarily obscured by flying black hair. So it was a woman. That didn't help much.

Her bewilderment didn't lessen when they landed on the ground below and her savior pressed their foreheads together, flashing a quick smile. "You haven't changed a bit, have you Lyn?"

"Huh?" was all the first mate could muster.

"But you didn't remember what I told you," her savior continued, her hair falling away to reveal a set of attractive black eyes surrounded by a reasonable amount of eyeshadow. "Don't let me see you dying before I can beat you again!"

The confused artist's mouth bobbed open and closed as she tried to get her mind to work properly. "Sabrina?"

* * *

Several things happened during this chapter. It was fun to plan and write them all.


	56. Fight to the Death

And now, back to my favorite pirate captain. Miraculously, this entire chapter is devoted to her. This is quite possibly the largest chunk of text in this story.

* * *

Cassandra rebounded off the smooth side of the bell and twisted hard to avoid the next thrust. The massive bell rang musically as Tolstoy's spear penetrated the thick metal. She shot off a few more rounds with her pistols, still trying to work towards the hole Sariputta had created in the floor. That was her only option to give her a level playing field. While she could try to duck underneath the vibrating bell and fall through that hole, the drop would almost certainly break a good number of her bones. Plus, she had a feeling Tolstoy could make that drop with ease.

"Stay still, damn you!" the enraged Reichmann yelled as he yanked his weapon free.

The pirate captain wasn't going to waste valuable breath trading witty ripostes with him. If only she had her lasso, she would be able to reenact her daring escape on Autumn Isle. The thought of falling all the way to the realm of the gravekeepers was even less appealing than the fall to the center of the library. She aimed her ancestors' pistols and began firing as quickly as her index and middle fingers could pull the trigger. "Ira Iunonia!"

Tosltoy whipped his spear around in an impressive figure eight, swatting her bullets aside with irritating ease. The barrage did hold him in place, however, the unrelenting stream keeping him from advancing in any way. She began inching towards Sariputta's hole in a smooth sideways motion. Tolstoy attempted to maneuver around as well, the light pings of bullets ricocheting off his armor indicating that the two actions were almost mutually exclusive.

In one fluid motion, she holstered one pistol, flicked a knife into her hand, stabbed it hard into the ground and used it to propel herself the remaining few feet. Tolstoy seized the opportunity and threw his spear across the hole in an attempt to stop her. With a twist of her wrist, she moved her body out of the way in the nick of time; a long slash neatly divided her red shirt in half across the middle. The shaft of the weapon quivering stuck in the edge and she used it to loop gracefully to the floor below.

Landing with cat-like agility, she let her gaze snap around as she analyzed her surroundings. The maze of books was standing for the most part. A couple of bookcases were slanted in a way that indicated that their bases had been knocked over, loose tomes falling like heavy raindrops. This upper level was almost completely devoid of fighters, only a few combatants working their way through the tight labyrinth. A quick peek over the edge revealed that the fight below was still going strong. No time for a better look, though.

Remembering where she was, she recovered from the drop and swiftly darted behind a bookshelf. Not a heartbeat later, she heard the sound of Tolstoy's armored boots hitting the ground. Although the clamor was enough to hide the sounds her silenced pistols made, she felt that discretion and psychological attacks were necessary to victory over this ruthless opponent. As she ran through the twisting bookshelves, she glanced over her shoulder to make sure he was chasing behind her. Every time she turned the corner, she wanted him to just catch a glimpse of her overshirt. He was faster than her, so she had to make a few quick cuts to confuse him, but she felt that her tactics were working.

She received proof of this when he bounded around a bookcase and let loose a bellow of fury upon not seeing her. "Where are you, sea rat? Where are you, betrayer?"

This last comment stung a little. Maybe replying from her relatively safe position a few bookshelves over wouldn't give her location away too easily. "I am not the one who betrayed an entire army!"

"I did not betray them!" She heard a mild explosion of books somewhere off to her left. Clearly, he didn't know where she was. "I misled them! They still believe I am General Taylor Monchstein, leader of the rebel army! When they catch sight of us fighting, they will believe it is you who has turned against them."

"But how?" she asked loudly. "How does nobody know of Tolstoy Reichmann's eviction from his own palace? Even the gravekeepers didn't know, and surely your kin do not guard their secrets so closely from them, not when they have a chance to seize your seat."

"It is simple," he replied. "Kill all those who knew. Shut out communications from them. The gravekeepers only know to stay clear of this palace until the battle is over today. They have not come within five miles of here for months. Except for a few false gravekeepers that we planted in their midst, who have tricked them somewhat."

She felt he was getting too close to her position. Pulling a round of her rifle off her person, she threw it as hard as she could in a random direction. When she judged it had gone far enough, she shot the bullet out of midair with her pistol, causing it to explode with a loud bang. She risked a glance around the edge of the bookcase, but her tactic had worked. Tolstoy was facing the other direction, his spear held in clenched fists. "And why do you have no army of your own? Where are the Reichmann reserves?"

"Dead, along with almost all of the real rebel army," he growled. "Those troops outside are rebels masquerading as Reichmann military. We are too far inland to even think of breaking our navy to join us, even if we didn't have a band of Summer Isle sea dogs on our doorstep."

"So what about Excel and the Albino Panther? They are loyal to the Reichmanns. Why are they fighting you?"

"If you'll remember, the Albino Panther knows full well about what's going on," he shouted, stabbing ineffectually through a stack of books. "Excel is in the dark, but then again, he never was the brightest experiment."

She snaked along the narrow pathway littered with books, carefully keeping him as close and as far away as she dared. She let loose two shots, which cracked the stone by his head. Watching as he ducked and stared wildly around, she took a deep breath and lowered her adrenaline temporarily. The need to recover slightly from her exhaustion overcame the risk from losing the boost to her naturally superior senses. Resting her head against the bookcase, she fingered her pistols agitatedly.

"And my good son Nikolai should be putting up a fight!" Tolstoy called. "He and Tango should be done with my rebels I sent in his direction."

Cassandra knew the truth behind his words. During one of their circuits around the bell above, she had glimpsed the hard time her crewmembers were having. "Is that your plan? Have most of the troops wiped out by Excel, the Albino Panther and Nikolai? What about Zion and his troops? They are loyal to the cause, not you Tolstoy!"

"The Albino Panther knows to make a circuit when he's done with Sabbath and her band," he said confidently. "Those he deems threats will get killed."

"You don't know pirates as well as you think you do," she snapped. "Even Shichibukai have some degree of honor!"

"Honor? They wouldn't know honor if it hit them in the face. The only honor pirates hold is toward other pirates! When you abandon that, who can trust you?"

Her rest time was up. Enhancing her senses once more, she dashed up the ladder and began sidestepping along the bookshelf. Not a moment too soon; Tolstoy peered around the corner, his whitened knuckles throttling his spear. His head panned from side to side like a shark seeking its prey. She managed to push her way through the bookcase, sending books thudding to the ground on the other side. When Tolstoy didn't rise to the bait, she hauled herself the rest of the way, exhaling deeply as she exited the large structure.

All of a sudden, the spear burst through the wooden shelf and penetrated her leg. She let out a scream of pain and tumbled onto the stone floor. Twisting around, she gritted her teeth and wrenched the spear out of her calf. Tolstoy practically disintegrated the bookcase in his zeal to get to his downed target. Throwing his spear over the circular edge of the floor, she rolled to the side and against the bookshelf. She began to fall through the gap, intent on the level below.

Her heart nearly skipped a beat as she felt metal-plated leather curl around her shoulder. Her hand flashed around, burying the dagger she had withdrawn from her boot into his fingers. He released his hold with a cry of pain, letting her drop to the level beneath her. She made sure to push off the bookcase and actually land on the floor, lest she continue to fall to the very bottom level. Holstering her pistols and pulling the rifle from her back, she took aim and pulled the trigger. "Saggita Diania!"

She was rewarded with a scream of pain. Grinning slightly to herself, she latched the smoking rifle onto her back and took off at a dead run. Whatever part of him she had hit was undoubtedly paining him to some degree, but she felt no compulsion to stay in place and find out exactly how much damage she had cause. A harebrained idea flashed into her mind as her gaze fell upon the extensive opening in the middle of the floor. She heard Tolstoy land sloppily behind her, which elicited a fresh burst of energy in her legs. She sped up the bookcase, scattering books in her wake. Upon reaching the edge of the wooden shelf, she hooked her fingers on the rim and spun around. Planting both of her feet firmly on the smooth wood board, she pushed off as hard as she could, springing into midair, just to the right of the golden pendulum.

She took a few precious seconds to actually figure out what was happening below her. Gluttony and Derrick Madaxe were still going strong, though the bandit had been stripped of his gleaming white armor. Michael and Sariputta were exchanging blows among the warring fighters, the bald monk slowly overcoming the armored man. She could see Lyn eluding a pair of people completely focused on catching her. If only Cassandra could help…

In an instant, she made yet another decision with unpredictable consequences. Tearing the rifle from her back, she threw it at the ground. At the rate this battle was going, she was going to need every ounce of agility she could squeeze from her limbs and darting about with the cumbersome weapon strapped to her back was tiring and difficult. Its power was not worth the sacrifice in maneuverability. She hoped she wouldn't come to regret her choice.

After checking to see exactly where her aerial trajectory was taking her, she twisted around and drew two pistols, one silver and one regular. While her ordinary pistol had limited ammunition, its rounds were more robust and had a higher chance of penetrating the Reichmann's armor. She gave a dark smirk as she saw him leaping after her, spear held loosely in one hand. She aimed her ancestral pistol at his head and her eyes flashed dangerously. "Ira Iunonia."

The ensuing hail of bullets peppered Tolstoy like angry hornets. His spear whipped about to deflect the dangerous projectiles, but the headfirst leap he had made in her direction was awkward enough to keep him from deflecting every single round. Dents began appearing on his thick armor and tears in his monk's cloak, but he made sure none came near his head. This was fine with Cassandra. Her true target wasn't his head.

Her keen eyes followed the path of the spear, watching as the tiny indents grew little by little. If she could break his weapon, her chance of victory would burgeon enormously. He was good; different parts of the shaft and blade were being used to turn the bullets away from his body. But it would become battered enough over time. For a moment, she regretted throwing away her rifle. But reason swiftly overcame regret. It would be hard to get another good shot off with the unwieldy weapon. Her own pistols would have to do.

Right before she would impact the level below the one she jumped off of, she curled herself up into a tight ball. The impact drove the wind from her lungs, but she didn't let it slow her in the slightest. Tumbling backwards once, she sprang to her feet and skipped a few steps backwards as she regained her balance. Turning on her heel, she took a deep breath and sprinted away. She dodged around another corner, barely avoiding the wily Reichmann as he crashed into the spot she had been a split-second before.

"You, I'll kill first!" Tolstoy yelled. "And that whore of a teammate is next, though by the looks of it, Roland and my darling Nessie are out for her blood as well. I'll have fun watching her destroyed mentally and physically. I'll-"

He was cut short as she let out a scream of frustration. She wanted to kill him so badly, not least to stop his badmouthing. Of all her nakama to pick on, he had to choose her. Granted, she was the closest to them physically, but the pirate captain was most defensive about her childish first mate. "Don't think you're surviving this, Tolstoy!"

"Then come out and fight me like a man!" he shouted back, his spear scything through a bookcase in his search for her.

Cassandra actually did laugh at this. She knew she wouldn't last three seconds in true hand-to-hand combat with the maniacal leader. Her strategy of running and attacking was much more effective. Although, maybe there was another option, one where she could use her admittedly superb pistol skills and agility to keep away from him. She was struck an idea, one that she would dismiss outright were she not the one who had come up with it.

Checking to make sure Tolstoy was watching, she suddenly dashed for the middle once more. Ignoring the footsteps pounding behind her, she had her silver pistol held out in front of her and was pulling the trigger for all she was worth. The bullets bounced rhythmically off the large gold pendulum shaft, denting it slightly. This was all she needed. When she leapt off the railing again, she holstered her old pistol and flicked a throwing knife into her hand. As she collided with the metal pole, she drove the knife point-first into the dent with all her might.

Luckily, it stuck fast. Bracing her boots against the side, she whirled around and began firing in Tolstoy's direction with a muttered, "Ira Iunonia." His spear went into motion, turning the rounds aside with relative ease. It did throw him off balance just enough to push him off course and miss the pendulum shaft. Her pistol hand followed his flight, never ceasing her barrage. He turned around uncomfortably and continued to deflect the bullets, landing oddly and leaping back at her.

She grinned as she eyed his weapon proudly. It looked to be at its limit. Positioning her foot more firmly on the golden pole, she pushed hard, yanking the knife out of the hard metal. Flipping gracefully around, she flipped the knife back into its sheath and drew her regular pistol once more. "Saggita Diania!"

The bullet flew straight and true. With a loud snap, the blade of the spear flew off, spiraling to the side. He caught it reflexively and stared at it in surprise. By the time he recovered, she was twirling towards the ground below. Her idea had been completed, for the most part. She still needed to figure out how she was going to work on landing. She could call on Gluttony, but it looked like any distraction from his fight with Madaxe would kill him. Her only remaining option was to land on a person and cushion her fall that way.

In the end, the latter is what she ended up doing. Her leg landed on the soldier's shoulder and she staggered to the ground. Pain lanced up her side and she bit back a scream of pain. Her head felt like it was going to split apart, but now was no time to sit and fret over injuries, mild or severe. While still on the ground, she looked about to see if any of her weapons had become dislodged in the rough landing. Fortunately, the latches had held on the pistols, so only a few of her throwing knives had fallen loose. Hastily grabbing them, she rolled to her feet and gathered her wits.

"What the fu-" the soldier she had landed on began to complain. He was silenced by an almost careless bullet sent burrowing through the center of his forehead. It briefly struck her how callous she had become if she could claim a human life so easily and thoughtlessly. She looked around to make sure Lyn hadn't seen. She was surrounded by chaos, fake rebels fighting real rebels, Reichmann troops killing indiscriminately. If anything, she desperately wanted Raven or Damien at her side. Either of them would be an invaluable asset.

She refrained from rushing over to the massive window and staring through, even if she might be able to check on the fights of her musician and navigator. Knowing that Tolstoy was only a heartbeat behind her, she began ducking and weaving her way through the roiling crowd. She paused for a split-second to snatch a hefty pair of knives off of a corpse's belt, testing their weight as she ran. Changing a fleeting look behind her, she saw Tolstoy land like a falling boulder, scattering warriors with wide sweeps of his broken spear. She was about to shoot, when a massive fighter fell between her and the Reichmann. If she wanted to land a hit, she would need to use something that traveled slower than a bullet.

"Dona Angeroniae!" she called, throwing her borrowed knives with deadly accuracy. In the pandemonium on the ground floor, he almost missed the two projectiles. He caught one, but the second slashed its way through his cheek and left ear. She ducked down as he clapped his hand to his wounded face, hoping he hadn't seen her. Darting through a cluster of troops, she pulled out a knife and a silver pistol. If she had to fight, the knife would help with her mobility while the pistol… was a pistol.

Unfortunately, her plan was thrown into disarray. While she had correctly factored in the mayhem that obscured Tolstoy's vision and impeded his movement, she had forgotten that so many of the rebels knew who she was. She was forced to slay many a combatant who tried to take her life. After the seventh man fell clutching at his bleeding chest, she let loose a growl of exasperation. She needed to be attacking Tolstoy, not these lackluster fighters.

She was about to leap behind a bookshelf when something whizzed by her head and thudded into the wooden side. She instinctively knew that the pursuing Reichmann had found her. Without a doubt he would waste a valuable second or two extracting the spearhead, which was plenty of time for her to put some distance between them. She flew up the nearest ladder, nodding in satisfaction as he pulled the metal point free. Diving headfirst through the bookshelf, her hand flashed out and embedded her knife into the thick wood shelf as she passed it. Her momentum halted, she hung there for a moment, catching her breath.

"Damn," she whistled to herself as she realized exactly what she was doing, what she had done. She hadn't been pushed this hard since before she had been excommunicated by her family. Plus, when she had been an assassin, she hadn't had to keep her adrenaline boosted for more than a few seconds at a time. True, her spars with her nakama had forced her to her limit repeatedly, but the _Howling Knave_ was a small fighting area. The entirety of the Reichmann library was more than she was used to.

Shaking her head to rid herself of any distracting thoughts, she wrenched her knife out and landed on the ground with feline ease. She sprinted along the aisle away from the Reichmann and towards the massive glass window, shooting over her shoulder as she went. If all went well, at least one of those bullets would hit. Even if it didn't, she was sure she had landed at least a few damaging hits on him so far. He was going to go down if it took everything she had.

"Pride!" identified one of the rebels she remembered upholding values over coin. "Do you require help?"

"Tolstoy Re-, I mean, General Taylor is out to get me!" she informed him speedily.

The rebel raised his eyebrows. "He's what?"

The need for elaboration vanished as the Reichmann appeared from behind a curve in the bookshelves. The rebel started violently, his eyes flicking back and forth between the rival pair. Clearly indecisive, he fingered his scimitar nervously as Cassandra began running away again. Before he could make a choice, Tolstoy swung the spear haft at his head. His scimitar flew up defensively, yet the blade was snapped clean in half without slowing Tolstoy in the slightest.

In response, the rebel dropped the destroyed weapon and seized the Reichmann, digging his fingers beneath his plates of armor. Snarling, Tolstoy jabbed the spearhead into the back of the man's skull, slaying him instantly, but the damage was done. A section of his armor was hanging freely, leather straps ripped apart. The upper half of his chest was exposed, chainmail links between air and skin. This was just fine for Cassandra; chainmail was notoriously bad at stopping bullets for long

She murmured a silent thanks to the dead rebel lying by Tolstoy's side, holstering her knife and pulling out her childhood pistol. By its weight, she only had three or four shots left, but a few deft movements later, that problem was taken care of. Focusing on Tolstoy's chest, she took aim and managed to give a smug grin. "Basia Veneria."

The silver pistol in her right hand pumped out a hailstorm of bullets that prompted Tolstoy to bring his broken spear back into play. Her left pistol was much more deliberate, firing only when she knew her opponent couldn't fully defend. Thick bullets slammed into the metal rings, beating them apart. A pained expression lanced across Tolstoy's face. What nearly caused her heart to stop was the determined glint in his eyes. She had seen that glint before in targets who knew full well when their time was up, but were determined to take her down with them.

"For the glory of the Reichmanns!" he howled, discarding the haft and clenching the spearhead in both fists. He came at her at a dead run, quicker than he had before. Time seemed to stretch as his armored feet clomped against the bloody floor. Her heart began to beat faster and faster as the inevitable danger approached. Her fingers fairly thrummed as blood pumped through them more quickly than she could ever remember. Energy coursed through her body, energy born from a true life-or-death situation.

Suddenly, her vision changed. She could see every drop of sweat gliding off of his body, every strand of blue hair plastered against his forehead, every link of chainmail damaged or not, every stitch of cloth on the monk's cloak streaming behind him. She could see the very blood throbbing beneath his skin, the constriction of his muscles as he surged towards her. She could hear every labored breath he took and every beat his heart made against his ribcage.

Her fingers began flickering faster and faster. It seemed to take more time for the triggers to click back into place, for another round to move into position. Even her ancestral pistol wasn't reacting quickly enough for her. Without thinking, she holstered two pistols and brought out another two. Once she shot with those pistols, they too were thrust forcefully back into their holsters. The triggers and bullets were ready on her first pair.

Only in the back of her mind did she register what she was doing. Somehow, her body was moving quickly enough to fire four guns when she should only be able to fire two. She tried to shift her legs, but her muscles refused to acknowledge her. Maniacal laughter burst forth as she sent forth a barrage of bullets unlike anything she had ever done before. Round metal tips were blasting Tolstoy to pieces, hammering his armor and tearing at his flesh. Each bullet slowed him ever so slightly as it bounced off of or passed through him. It all came down to this.

Incredibly, despite her onslaught, he persevered. His death cry on his lips, he brutally collided with her. Everything seemed to stop with that impact. She didn't feel any pain, just the pressure of his body on hers. Her hat was in the process of drifting off her head. The tail of her impressive black shirt hung motionless. Crimson droplets hung suspended in midair as if trapped in glass. A dull roar echoed in her ears. Nothing moved.

Something was wrong. Something was desperately, horribly wrong. Even in this frozen moment, she managed to glance downwards. His fists were clenched against her chest. His fists had been around the spearhead. Some of those crimson droplets were coming from her chest. Something was wrong. She didn't feel any pain. She could feel something _inside_ her body. Why did it suddenly feel like her heart was convulsing instead of beating? Something was wrong. Something was dreadfully wrong.

Time began to accelerate. Blood slowly tumbled as it streamed from his wounds, from her wound. Her hat was drifting away from her. His cloak and her shirt were undulating slowly. She didn't feel any pain. All she felt was the pressure on her chest. She could feel everything in her body, every organ, every muscle and every cell, and something foreign was lodged between her ribs. Her feet leisurely slipped out from underneath her.

_My crewmembers_. The thought floated up in her consciousness like a bubble of air in still water. She blinked painstakingly gradually as she registered that one thought. Another bubble was coming, this one just a little bit bigger and stronger than the previous one. _My friends_. Tolstoy's foot hit the ground. Her back was pressed against something. No, that something had given. A loud retort reached her ears. She wondered what was going on. A speck of something shiny spiraled lazily past her. So. The glass was broken. He was taking her through the window. From there, it was a fathomless drop to the depths of the underground. Another bubble, this one even bigger than the second. _My nakama_.

She felt no pain, but a single tear slipped from her eye. Her lips spread in a fatalistic smile. Did she regret her actions? Not in the slightest. Without them, she would never have met four people who she trusted and loved. She was sorry to be leaving them, but if there was nothing to be done, there was nothing to be done. Her heart broke at the thought of abandoning them to the cruelty of the world. If there was anything that would keep her with them, she would gladly accept it.

Still, she wished she could have seen them one last time. Lyn and her smile that could outshine the sun. Damien and his power that would surely take the world by storm. Alexander and his talent that would dazzle countless. Raven and her skills that were honed nearly to perfection. Lyn and her indestructible cheer. Damien and his indomitable will. Alexander and his infallible loyalty. Raven and her unwavering trust.

One last bubble.

_Forgive me_.

* * *

I've been thinking about this chapter for years. Literally years.


	57. Memories

Are you as shocked as the Black Glove Pirates? Continue reading to find out.

* * *

Raven's bottomless black eyes beheld the pair emotionlessly.

___Raven looked through the porthole to the men's quarters, surveying its sleeping inhabitants. Cain stretched diagonally across the distant floor, a bundle of spare cloth for his pillow and a sail for his blanket. Damien lay beneath his ruined hammock, little flames forming above his mouth as he snored. Alexander was slumbering fitfully in his nightclothes, his hammock swinging from side to side in rhythm with the ship._

___The doctor flitted over to the women's quarters and peered inside. Lyn was splayed across her bed, the corner of her blanket covering one foot. Her arm dangled over the edge of her mattress, her fingers brushing the haphazard pile of sketches on the floor. The other bed was empty, its covers still neatly folded and tucked in place. Raven kicked off, soaring into the air to find the missing woman._

___Cassandra was lying on the forecastle deck, one leg crossed over the other, and staring up at the stars. One gloved hand was nestled behind her head, the other lazily spinning a pistol by the trigger guard. She gave a slight yawn, then shivered slightly. That was almost to be expected: she wasn't wearing anything but a tank top and underpants. The black-clad woman sped to the figurehead next to the resting captain, alighting on the knave's wavy wooden locks._

_"__All's well, I assume," Cassandra said aloud as if to nobody in particular._

_"__Lyn, Damien, Alexander and Cain are asleep in their respective positions," Raven reported. "Our medical supplies are running low, especially in tranquilizer, anesthetic and bandages. Keeping Damien's injuries from getting infected is quite difficult, especially considering his opponent was a massive wild beast with harmful bacteria on its claws and teeth."_

___The pirate captain laughed lightly. "Nothing short of the world ending would stop him, and even then he'd still fight. How's Lyn doing? Is she sleeping well?"_

_"__Lyn is sound asleep," the doctor repeated. "She is, as usual, sleeping naked with no covers. Her injuries were superficial at best and none should leave more than a scab or a bruise that will fade before long."_

_"__And Alexander?" Cassandra continued down her nightly checklist. "Is his leg getting better?"_

_"__The bone is almost completely healed," Raven droned. "He can use it without too much caution, though he should not be applying too much pressure to it. It is peculiar; he healed much more quickly than he should have. I suspect that his native magic is in some way accelerating his healing process and the same applies for Damien. It would explain why he has endured wounds that would kill even the more abnormal superhumans."_

___For some reason, a broad grin was evident on the sniper's face. "Come here, Raven. Lie next to me."_

___Attempting to puzzle out the unusual request, the doctor nevertheless jumped over to land beside her captain. She eased her way onto the gently rocking deck, only to be dragged down by her arm. She found herself tucked against the other woman, Cassandra's arm across her shoulders. Using the limb as a pillow, she gazed up at the sky. "Is there a purpose to this?" she inquired tonelessly, keeping her own arms firmly at her side._

_"__Oh, Raven," Cassandra said with a smile. "Can't you even find enjoyment staring up at the stars? They're so lovely tonight, especially since it's Shi's night."_

___The doctor blinked at the half moon suspended halfway to the horizon. "Shinobu has always been attached to the Moon Sisters."_

___Cassandra jostled the petite woman slightly. "Every Sister loves each of the others. I mean, look at the pair of us. Two of the seven, together as pirates. I bet nobody would have imagined that in a million years."_

_"__Are you considering recruiting other Sisters to the crew?" Raven asked. "Each of them would be an invaluable addition."_

_"__I don't want to be snatching up the best of the next generation assassins," Cassandra sighed. "I would love for them to join, but I couldn't do that to their families. I won't put them through what I put my family through." She turned to the curvaceous doctor, frowning slightly. "Speaking of which, what's the deal with you and your family? Do they know yet?"_

___Raven hesitated before answering. "I was not able to keep my presence in your crew as secret as I expected. My father and mother will learn of my presence before the end of the week. I expect the gravekeepers on Reichmann Island will have requests to delay me until a representative of my family comes to pick me up. We should leave before that."_

_"__Don't worry yourself," the sniper assured her. "We'll be in and out before you get anxious. We still have all of the Grand Line to get through."_

_"__Why are you so focused on finding One Piece?" Raven still didn't understand it. "Why are you so driven to be Queen of the Pirates? You should be attempting to win back the approval of your family. Eternal shame and a dishonored name are not worth the risk of a title few others have held."_

_"__Ah, my dream," Cassandra murmured. "That's one thing you still haven't figured out is it? Why I'm so desperate to be Pirate Queen, why Lyn wants to see the ends of the world, why Damien wants to be the best fighter and why Alexander wants to play in a concert for the entire world, not to mention our boys' desire to talk to or kill the Fleet Admiral. Our dreams don't make sense to you. Why we're so passionate to achieve unrealistically difficult goals, you still haven't been able to work your mind around that."_

_"__Alexander wants to play a concert for the entire world?" This was news to Raven._

___Cassandra's smile returned. "He told me a night or two ago. He wanted a dream that didn't involve being driven by revenge. He gets as touchy as Damien when it comes to the Marines, so I can see where he's coming from. But we're getting off topic a bit. My friend, it gives us something to live for. Oh don't get me wrong; each of us live for ourselves and for each other. But when we're working toward that life dream… it's a feeling unlike any other. We would die for our dreams. Why do you think Damien loves to fight or why Alexander loves to play his music, why Lyn insists on seeing everything positively? Because that way, they get closer to their dreams. We all have dreams, Raven. Do you?"_

___Raven remained silent. A dream she wanted enough to die for? That was illogical. Why would a person go to such lengths? She felt the night sea breeze sweep across her skintight outfit and felt the chill seep into her flesh. A dream she would give anything for did not make sense. She had entered the conversation with the intent to detail the status of the ship and its inhabitants and wound up with an unsolvable quandary. Perhaps she should not spend as much time talking with the captain as she normally did. But somewhere deep within her, she knew that the only way to figure out this puzzle was to communicate with all of the Black Glove Pirates._

_"__I have no dream," she whispered at last. "I have no expectations for what will be. In casting my lot in with you, I have entrusted you with my future. My previous goals mean nothing now. My only compulsion is to aid you in your goal. Is that a dream?"_

_"__It's a start," Cassandra admitted. "But that's still similar to Damien and Alexander's dreams about the Fleet Admiral. You need to have something selfish, something you want to do. It can be something that needs help to accomplish or it can be something that only you can do on your own. But know that whatever you choose, we will support you with all our hearts."_

___She trailed off and neither woman made any attempt to revitalize the conversation. They simply lay beside each other, watching the stars creep across the dark night sky. Cassandra holstered her pistol without disturbing the woman resting on her arm, eyes focused beyond the most distant star as she lay immersed in thought. Raven took the time to inventory the various toxins and drugs on her body, running through her immense list without budging a muscle. Only when the time to wake Alexander up for his turn on watch did Raven move._

_\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\_

Alexander's dark brown eyes blinked slowly in shock.

___Alexander was reclining against the mizzenmast with a carton of apples beside him and his trumpet lying at his feet. Damien was doing one-armed pushups on the yard above him, though Alexander trusted the navigator not to fall on him. Like his friend, he was attempting to hone his abilities. Unlike his friend, the abilities he was trying to hone had nothing to do with his physical fitness. Oh, he had gone along with Damien's unreasonable workout routine more than once, but he had other areas he could more easily expand in. He was working on his Devil Fruit power._

_"__Watcha doin'?" a voice came casually from behind him._

___It was a measure of how used he was to the odd appearances and disappearances of his nakama that he didn't even bat an eyelash at his inquisitive captain. "I am attempting to transmute these apples into air."_

_"__You're wasting perfectly good apples?" she said dangerously, coming out from her hiding place behind the mast and standing proudly in front of him. "You know I like to eat those."_

_"__They are being sacrificed for a greater cause," he replied impishly, nonetheless tossing the fruit in his hands up to her. "And it's not like I'm using up our entire stock. You have enough apples in the cargo holds to tide us over till the end of the Grand Line."_

___Captain waved her hand dismissively and sat down before him, taking a large bite out of her apple. "This is true. Well, are you succeeding in your transformations?"_

___In response, he held up another apple and concentrated hard on it. He could feel his energy leaching out of him and into the fruit and visualized the movements of wind, the lightness of air, the insubstantiality of the aether. While this was not necessary to think of every time, he had to get a feel for the thing he was transmuting. He tried not to let his mind wander, focusing only on turning the apple into air._

___The red fruit appeared to shimmer, then melted away into water. He sighed as the cool liquid flowed onto the deck, slightly disheartened by his repeated failure. "This is what happens most of the time. Sometimes it's glass or metal, or even rock. I just can't seem to get it right I just can't transform it into air."_

_"__Well, I can understand the appeal of being able to turn it into air," she reasoned. "I mean, the usefulness is limitless. It'll look like you're just making things disappear. Although you wouldn't be able to make them reappear. Which reminds me, can you revert things back to what they were before?"_

___He glanced at the stone and metal apples rolling around the deck. "Turning something into a pure material is one thing. Turning it back into something complex is quite another. The hardest for me to transmute something into is water. I've been trying to figure out why that is, but I haven't quite put my finger on it."_

___Captain gazed into the distance, bobbing her head ever so slightly. "Maybe it's like water."_

___Alexander sighed. "Thanks, Captain. That's really helpful. Think of air like water. I'm pretty sure that line of thinking was what resulted in all those failed experiments."_

_"__Not like that," she scolded. "Work with me here. Imagine a block of ice. It needs energy to melt into water. Now that's relatively easy. Turning water into steam, now that takes a lot of energy. You need a fire to evaporate water. Maybe all it needs is more energy than you're putting in it."_

_"__That could be it…" He stared dubiously at his empty hand. "But whenever I try to channel that amount of energy into whatever I'm trying to transmute, it just gets overloaded and transmutes anyway. I don't see how I'm going to do it."_

___She looked at him, obviously contemplating something. Coming to a decision, she clasped her hands together for a moment before pulling them apart. To his surprise, a blue-green ring was pinched between her right index finger and thumb. She gave a small laugh at his startled appearance. "Yes, Alexander. As you may have guessed, this is seastone. Grade C, so you'll only lose your powers instead of growing weak. Don't put this directly against your skin. Just… put it on top of a scrap of clothing or something. It needs to be thin, I'd wager."_

___Still blinking in surprise as his head filled with questions, he nevertheless took the ring and placed it on the top of his fingerless black glove. Carefully balancing it on the back of his hand, he reached over and picked up another apple. "Air… Magie."_

___The apple remained unchanged. He frowned slightly at it and pushed harder. It felt as if there was some stopper put on his power that was preventing it from coming out. He pushed harder, but all it did was gather more energy that couldn't be used. Some was still trickling into the fruit, but most of it was just flowing into his arm and getting stuck. Everything below his shoulder felt like a pipe about to burst. He trembled at the amount of power he was attempting to use. It was like being back on Winter Isle, attempting to burrow through over a hundred feet of rock._

___But the strain proved too much for the apple. Partially dissolving into water, it exploded apart in his tightly clenched fist. His chest heaved with exertion as he stared at the pieces of fruit dangling from his fist and spread across the deck. Captain raised her eyebrows, clearly impressed. "Well that was something. Can you explain what just happened?"_

_"__Okay, normally how I transform things is by pushing energy into them and changing them that way. But this was different. I can't really describe it except for saying that the seastone acted like a blocker for my powers." He gingerly removed the ring from his hand and placed it on the deck. "This definitely merits more studying. May I borrow this?"_

_"__By all means." She swept her arm in a gracious half bow. "I feel like I just provided you a puzzle piece that you needed to improve your powers tenfold."_

_"__Something like that," he said with a grin. "How did you come upon a seastone ring anyway? Why did you get it?"_

___She munched on a second apple pensively, staring at him over the top of the red fruit. "How is an easy question to answer. Acquiring Grade C seastone is not as hard as one might imagine. The manufacturing of Grades B and A is tightly monitored by the World Government, though there's always some floating around on the black market. Seastone is crazy expensive; that ring cost me tens of millions of Beli. Why I got it is another reason. When we get to the Grand Line, there are going to be a good number of people, pirates or otherwise, with Devil Fruit powers. I simply acquired a small and unexpected weapon to use against them." She replaced the ring upon her gloved finger and clasped his bare hand. "See? You can't use your powers now. If you were more reliant on your Devil Fruit powers in combat, you'd be temporarily powerless and very surprised. Do you see what I'm saying?"_

___He tried to transform another apple, but found that he couldn't even feel the power within him. It was as if he had never eaten a Devil Fruit at all. "I do indeed. That is a mighty weapon you have, Captain. I'm once again amazed at your foresight and strategic thinking."_

___The sniper laughed quietly to herself. "And you're not so bad either, Alexander. You are gifted with your sound attack as well. You are a very well-rounded fighter and pirate. I respect you all the more for having the power to do dastardly deeds and terrible things but restraining yourself accordingly. Why, most other men with your power would be busy making a fortune for themselves or slaughtering countless men with disturbing ease."_

_"__It is true. However, I have vowed never to turn anything into gold unless it is absolutely essential and I know well the value of the human life. Like you, I am sometimes haunted by the power I possess. I know you have nightmares and can't fathom what they must be like. Mine are full of people I have erased, accidentally or otherwise. Do you understand? I don't just kill them, I completely erase their presence. It was as if they were never even there."_

___Captain extended her hand and rested it comfortingly on his shoulder. "You will not erase anybody, Alexander. I trust your self-control wholeheartedly. As you said, I am not unfamiliar with the feeling that the slightest move I make could be potentially fatal to another. But you just have to train yourself to be better. In order to use great power, one must have great control over oneself. Of course," she said in a lighter tone, "that's not always the case. Isn't that right, Damien?"_

___The navigator in question flipped around the yard and landed heavily next to them. "Aye, Cap'n. C'mon Songbird; ya need t' stay in shape on th' seas. Yeh should be trainin', the both a yeh."_

___Alexander groaned loudly._

_\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\_

Damien's wild green eyes nearly rolled with confusion.

_"__Ha!" Captain shouted, striking at the navigator's stomach with her bare fist. "Ha! Ha!"_

___Damien paced to the side, allowing her to remain in front of him. When she had approached him with the request of using him as a punching post, he had gladly accepted. Anything that might improve one aspect of his life, especially when it was related to fighting, thrilled him to no end. He knew Captain wasn't very strong, but this way he could practice micrododging or whatever that fuckfaced cunt called it, attempting to throw her strike off-center._

___He instinctively bared his teeth when he thought of her and her superior fighting skill. His bared teeth turned into a dark grin as he remembered the time he had landed a nice, solid hit on her. So she had managed to down him afterwards. She was protecting Captain from himself. He could understand that, in a crazy sort of way._

_"__What's so funny?" Captain asked. "You've only managed to avoid three of my blows."_

___The berserker let his eyes rove over the sparring room, lingering on the officials watching him from the doorway with crossed arms. "Jus' thinkin'."_

_"__Well, don't think too hard. You'll get a headache." Damien lashed out for the insult, though his fist only connected with thin air. She ducked out of his reach and cocked her head to the side. "Come, Damien. Let's drink together."_

___A wide grin spread across his face. "Now yer speakin' me language."_

___She nodded and turned her back to him. Fully expecting to miss completely, he lunged forward and spun around in a devastating roundhouse kick. Surprisingly, she dodged beneath the limb and backed towards him. Twisting her body, she swung her arm around, a dagger flashing into her hand. A thin line of red appeared on his cheek, too shallow to allow blood to flow._

_"__We know each other too well," she mused as she flicked her knife back into its holster. "Though I'll never forget that beating you gave me back on the _Knave_."_

_"__Yeh know y' deserved it, shi'y Cap'n." He stumped towards the doorway, extending his talons in preparation for the fight he anticipated the rebel officials to give him. Disappointingly, Captain jumped in front of him, defusing any situation that might have arisen. He blinked as two mugs of foamy liquid were offered to them, though he snatched his without any questions. The sniper was a heartbeat behind him, her tongue gently probing the offered present._

_"__It's safe to drink," she informed him._

___Damien gave a bark of laughter. "Fuckin' 'ell. You know these pansy-ass faggots wouldn' try ta fuckin' poison us, and it ain' like they'd manage ta act'ally do it."_

_"__Better safe than sorry," she said with a smile._

_"__Wha'ever." They walked for a moment in silence. Damien idly scratched the bandages that blackhearted concubine had wrapped around his torso. He didn't think his wounds were that bad. Deus had been aiming to incapacitate him and had used far too little force to actually do so. He gave another smile as he thought of the time he had knocked her down. Maybe it was time she had earned his respect too._

_"__Damien, I'm going to tell you something and you need to take this very seriously," she said suddenly._

___He looked down at her in puzzlement, tilting his head back to tip his drink down his throat. "Ah?"_

___She looked right back up at him. "You're a complete bastard."_

___The navigator blinked. "Ah?"_

_"__You're amoral, bloodthirsty and I've seen you become the incarnation of blind rage," she continued._

_"__An' yer a shitfaced 'arlot," he shot back, then paused. "Ain' we done this before?"_

_"__Let me finish," she reprimanded, hitting him in the shoulder. "Do you know why you're on my crew despite the fact that anyone else would have driven you away not least for self-preservation and keeping the crew safe? Any person with a lick of common sense wouldn't be anywhere near you."_

_"__Songbird does jus' fine," he grumbled._

___She rolled her eyes. "When it comes to you, Alexander is as blind as he is physically. What I'm trying to get you to do is to think about why you're still on my crew."_

___He shrugged his muscular shoulders in confusion. "Cuz yer th' Cap'n. Prob'y wouldn' follow nobody else."_

_"__It is because I believe in your dream," she told him, tugging on a dreadlock. "It is because I believe, no, I know that you will be the best fighter on this planet. Just like how I know you believe I will be Queen of the Pirates."_

_"__O' course," he mumbled. "Yer gonna be th' fuckin' Pira' Queen. I ain' fightin' shit for ya, but you can 'andle yerself, right cunt?"_

___She jabbed a finger into his arm. "That's exactly it. It is because, however much you appear not to, you will fight for any of the Black Glove Pirates. Don't act like you wouldn't."_

_"Don' be a twat,__" he growled at her. "Th' others know I'd'nt 'urt 'em 'less they really pissed me off. 'Cept fer tha' sea 'ore, course."_

_"__I fear that conflict won't be fully resolved until you can actually beat her," she sighed._

_"__That ain' true," he objected. His grin returned as he saw the surprised expression on Captain's face. "I ain' got no problem wit' people oo're be'er than me. I jus' gotta lay 'em ou' in a fair figh' first."_

___The sniper rolled her eyes. "And there's the problem. You need to learn to accept the help of fighters better than you are. Otherwise, all you'll do is piss them off and they'll never be able to give you tips."_

_"__Fuck tips," he snarled heatedly. "I don' need no fuckin' 'elp."_

_"__As much as you want to, you aren't going to climb to the top on your own," she insisted. "You will need the help of others if you want to ascend into the big leagues. Take Deus, for instance. He is a first-class swordsman who nearly fought you until you both gave out."_

_"__I wasn' fuckin' done," he cut in. "I coulda gone on."_

___She waved the issue aside. "Okay, Deus is a bad example. The best one is Raven, now that I think about it. You can both help each other get better if only you got along. Hasn't she already taught you micrododging? Do you really think that's the only ability she thinks you'll be able to use in conjunction with your already powerful fighting capabilities? Face it, Damien, you're going to learn to accept help when it's offered to you. Think of it this way. Just delay the necessity to knock them down until you're fully confident you're ready to do so."_

_"__Tha's askin' a fuckin' ton, Cap'n," he stated. "That ain' how I learn. I gotta get stronger meself and tha's the truth."_

___The pirate captain walked a few paces in silence and nodded to herself, obviously mulling it over. "Okay, think of it this way. I'm going to be Pirate Queen, right?"_

_"__Righ'," he murmured, unsure of where this was going._

_"__And you're going to help me, right? Even though I never explicitly asked you to."_

_"__Righ'," he repeated._

___She nodded as if to emphasize her point. "It's like that. You're going to be the best fighter, but you're going to need the help of others to get there. There's no shame in getting help, especially if it can be used to your advantage. I'm not asking you to beg for help, doubly so if you don't need it, but don't refused what's offered to you."_

___He cuffed her lightly on the back of the head, nearly sending her staggering to the ground. "You an' me're too much th' same, Cap'n. I know yer no' fuckin' acceptin' 'elp that ain' ours."_

_"__Don't compare me to a fiend like you!" she shouted. "I'm a graceful lady of the sea!"_

___There was a moment of surprised silence. Then, after glancing at each other, they both broke down into hearty laughter._

_\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\_

Lyn's ordinarily cheerful cyan eyes widened with shock.

___Lyn was fairly bursting with joy. Finally, Captain allowed the artist to bathe with her! Granted, it was a public bath, but it was a bonding experience all female pirates should experience at one point or another. They were standing in the doorway of a pleasantly humid room, Captain with her towel wrapped around her body and Lyn with her towel draped over her shoulder. The smooth tiles oozed heat and the water vapor swirled mystically on unseen air currents. Clapping delightedly, Lyn attempted to rush over to the steaming bathtub, only to have her foot shoot out from underneath her. Before she knew it, Captain's hand was around her arm, holding her tightly a foot or so off the ground._

_"__Careful, Lyn," came the expected scolding. "I've seen better women break their noses on floors like these."_

_"__Better?" The first mate let her lip quiver a little._

___Captain rolled her eyes. "Just be more careful."_

___Nodding happily, Lyn walked _carefully_ over to the heated water. Without bothering to test it, she threw herself in. She submerged instantly, enjoying the feeling of hot water enveloping her. She broke the surface and threw her head back, letting her hair fan out behind her. Laughing gaily, she turned to the woman cautiously slipping into the bathtub. "Oh give me a break! When will you just let loose and have some fun? You won't go swimming, you won't go to bars with Damien and I, you don't even do that stuck-up stuff Alexander likes to do. Is it really that hard to enjoy yourself with us?"_

_"__It's not that," Captain protested. "It's just… I have duties as leader of this crew. I have information to gather and-"_

_"__Baloney," Lyn cut in. "Nobody can stay wound up all the time! Well, Raven can, but she's just weird! When have you actually just sat back and relaxed?"_

_"__When I'm on the _Knave_, I do it all the time," Captain stated._

_"__Bah. Reading and chess. Come here." Lyn sat up on the seat a foot below the water's surface. Captain slowly moved towards her, not bothering to react when the first mate seized her and yanked her closer. She did gave a short noise of objection as she was pushed onto the other woman's lap, but made no move to pull free. She let her body fall onto the length of smooth acrylic. Grinning triumphantly, Lyn ran her fingers through her captain's hair and gazed down at her. "How's it feel?"_

_"__Still tense," Captain admitted. "But that's probably because I'm just not used to being… so exposed around other people."_

___Lyn had never understood why people were so uncomfortable with nudity. It was the natural state for a body, so why be ashamed of it? Plus, it was fun being looked at sometimes! "I'm not just 'other people.' I'm your best friend! You're my best friend!" Her eyes darted from side to side as if checking for eavesdroppers. "Wanna know a secret?"_

___Captain smiled. "I'm all ears."_

_"__Even I get scared sometimes," Lyn whispered, her face deadly serious. "Sometimes, even Raven and Damien scare me. I know they would never hurt me, but I'm still afraid whenever I see them fight. But I never feel unsafe and you know why?"_

_"__No, Lyn," Captain said. "Why?"_

_"__Because I know that no matter what, you'll always be there for me." She licked her lips. "I know that Raven and Damien wouldn't ever, ever hurt me, but you're like unstoppable! You're a superhero that's always there to save the day and make everything all right."_

_"__Oh, Lyn," the sniper sighed. "I appreciate that that's how you feel, but that's not right at all. I'm not the superhero that makes sure everybody's happy in the end. I'm the bogeyman who scares the bad guys and makes them unable to hurt people ever again. I'm every bit as bad as Raven and Damien. If only you knew about half the things I've done. You'd never talk to me again. I couldn't bear that, Lyn, I couldn't."_

___Lyn wrapped her arms tightly around her captain, bringing her closer. "Don't worry. There's no darkness inside you that I couldn't forgive. I promise, no matter what you've done, you won't become any less important to me than you are now."_

___Captain gave a dry chuckle and leaned her head against the other woman's breast. "Trust me. I've done some truly despicable things. If I ever spoke of them-"_

_"__Try me."_

___The pirate captain looked up into the eyes of her friend. It was obvious she was weighing the options heavily. Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as she tried to form her words. Finally, she sighed and fell limp. "You may have worked out that I was an assassin before I became a pirate. I never explicitly said it, but I was."_

_"__We all know that." Her tone was light, but Lyn was unsure about where Captain was going with this. "Can't remember how we did, but we all know."_

_"__Well, on assignments, I did more than kill the targets." She took a deep, shuddering breath. "I've killed innocents, Lyn. Anybody I could use in any way was used. Bodyguards who leapt into the path of bullets, peasants who I slaughtered to use as bait or to send a message, families ripped apart because I saw nothing but me and the target. I've looked into the eyes of bystanders as I cut their throats or put a bullet in their head. After a certain point, I just did it automatically. I didn't even feel their deaths on my hands._

_"__This is why I never wanted you to kill somebody. Ever. Damien, Raven and I are all guilty of slaughtering innocents to achieve our goals or even just to release pent-up emotions. We're all affected so badly by it. Damien's psychotic, Raven's emotionless and I have nightmares. My nightmares are from the blood on my hands, blood of passersby who didn't need to die but did. But I have to be strong. I can't let myself grow weak and let you all get hurt. Remember that bandit who chased us? I'll tell you what I told him. You all need someone to look up to and as much as I hate it, I have to be that person. But I'm not that strong, Lyn. I can't do this. My sins are too great."_

___Captain fell silent. She appeared shocked to discover tears mingling with the sweat on her face. Lyn's chest began to tremble as the first mate struggled to keep her breath even. Unfortunately, her heart gave her away, beating more rapidly than before. Then, much to her obvious surprise, Captain felt herself being hugged even more tightly. Her body was mashed up against Lyn's, her arms flailing in shock. The first mate didn't even try to constrain her sobbing, resting her chin on the other woman's shoulder._

_"__How?" she cried. "Why?"_

_"__See?" Captain's voice was approaching a wail. "This is why I didn't want to tell you!"_

_"__No, no, not that," Lyn disputed. "How could you bear this pain? Why did you not share with us? Did you not trust us enough to hear what you've done? Did you really think we would turn our backs on you?" She pushed the sniper to arm's length, staring directly into her eyes. "Get it through your head, Captain. We _love_ you. We all do. I love you. Alexander loves you. Damien loves you. Even Raven loves you, no matter how much she tries to hide it. I've spoken to all of them and every one of us has something that you've done for us that's more important than anything. Why can't you acknowledge how important you are to us?"_

___Tears were flowing freely down the cheeks of both women. Captain leaned forward and simply wept, too overcome to say anything. Lyn hugged her closer, emotionally exhausted from her brief tirade. The two pirates rocked back and forth as they comforted each other. The first mate was rubbing the other woman's back in small circles in an effort to soothe her._

___After a short moment, Captain regained most of her usual composure. Though her eyes were still red, her breathing was back under control and she was no longer crying. In a final act as if to seal their new trust, Lyn leaned forward and planted a kiss upon the other woman's forehead. Captain gave a weak laugh and returned the gesture. Lyn decided that one more thing needed to happen before this moment could end._

___She twisted her body and slapped the sniper as hard as she could._

___Captain fell back into the bathtub, rubbing her cheek in shock. Lyn was on her feet, her hands planted authoritatively on her hips. "And don't ever think about hiding from us again, do you hear me?"_

___The pirate captain's expression turned from surprised incredulity to joyous amusement. Her laugh became happier as she heard the command. A broad grin still on her face, she leapt forward and dragged the first mate underwater. "Giving orders to your captain, are we now? You're overstepping your boundaries, Lyn!"_

___The rest of the time in the bath was spent playing in the water, joyful laughter echoing through the room._

* * *

And the poll says: no, you are not more shocked than the Black Glove Pirates.


	58. Sword, Voice, Darkness and Flame

Happy holidays to you all. I was tempted to do a special or something, then I decided a chapter of this length would be sufficiently special.

* * *

Lyn's mind was akin to a train jumping its tracks. Too many things had happened in too short a time. Where had Sabrina come from? Why was Envy dead? Why was Captain dead? Why was Captain dead? Why was Captain dead? The question kept running through her head without an answer. She wasn't aware of her body moving, only dimly registering ripping away from Sabrina's grasp and sprinting over to the window. Only the female swashbuckler catching hold of her arm prevented her from leaping out after Captain and her opponent. She tried her best to wrench free, but Sabrina was too strong. Tears were flooding down her face and a loud howling noise was tearing out of her throat. "Let me go! Let me go! I have to save her! Get off of me!"

"Lyn!" Sabrina shouted. "Lyn! Lyn! Calm down! You need to calm down, Lyn!"

The first mate shook her head wildly, still trying to pull free. In a last desperate attempt, she forced her spirit out of her body and hurtled after the two combatants. She flew as fast and as hard as she could, uncaring of the usual slowness she was supposed to get away from her body. Her senses began to grow frizzled and painful, but she could see Captain and General Taylor plummeting together in a tight spiral. She was losing sight of them in the darkness of the underworld and the static in her vision, but she couldn't lose them. She couldn't.

Soon, her vision was nothing but constantly shifting grey. She screamed with fury. Her emotions were growing out of control. She couldn't maintain her spirit form when she was too emotional. She felt the pull back to her body. She tried to ignore it, pushing herself to fly harder and faster, but it was like being sucked underwater by a fearsome riptide. Spinning crazily out of control, she was drawn back into her corporeal body in one mighty wrench.

All she felt was something on her face. More specifically, on her lips. Her eyes popped open to find Sabrina administering mouth-to-mouth. The swashbuckler gave a sigh of relief when Lyn gave a hacking cough, rolling over onto her side. "Don't scare me like that! And it's not like I wanted to or anything. I was just returning the favor is all."

Lyn's eyes were filled with tears, still too distraught to form a true coherent thought. She couldn't see, couldn't feel, her head felt foggy, her limbs felt weak. "She's dead! She's dead and it's all my fault! I should have protected her! I should have gone with her to get General Taylor! But Roland and Nessie-" She was interrupted by a violent fit of hiccups. "They killed him! They killed her!"

"Lyn?" Sabrina looked worriedly at her. "I know your captain just died, but it's not that big of a deal is it? I mean, I didn't bawl my eyes out when she killed my captain back on Summer Isle!"

The first mate threw her fist out, connecting solidly with the other woman's cheek. She threw herself onto Sabrina, pinning her arms to the floor. "She was everything to me! She was everything and she!" She terminated in a scream of anguish, tears streaming down her face. She allowed the other pirate to get back up and was soon drawn into a comforting hug. All the fighting around her didn't matter in the slightest. She was sobbing into the swashbuckler's shoulder, grief clogging her mind. "She was Captain, my Captain! He took her from me! He took her from me and Damien and Alex and Raven! We all needed her! We all need her! She isn't supposed to leave yet! She isn't supposed to leave ever!"

"You're not making any sense," Sabrina interrupted. "Just… calm down and take a deep breath. Was she your girlfriend too? Is that it?"

Somehow, Lyn found this question amusing enough for giggles to break through her sorrow. She began laughing hysterically, tears still pouring down her cheeks. She pulled away and held her sides, filling the air with distraught laughter. Sabrina looked worriedly down at her, hands hovering unsurely between them. The first mate managed to recover enough to explain her hilarity. "We didn't love her that way, silly Sabrina! She was our Captain! No, she is our Captain! She can't be dead yet; she just can't! She isn't dead! She's just waiting for our help!"

Sabrina lunged forward and intercepted her just as she began to rise to her feet. "You're not going anywhere Lyn. Just calm down, please."

"It's all his fault!" the artist wailed. "He was the one who took her! He did it! How could he?" She clutched at Sabrina as if grasping a lifeline. "Where did she go? Why did she go? Sabrina, tell me!"

"Lyn, you're getting too worked up. Just take a few deep breaths and try to calm down."

The first mate tried her best, but she couldn't keep her breath even. Air flowed in and out of her body in jerky sobs, her body still wracked with occasional hiccups. "It's his fault. He did it. He touched Captain. He touched Captain!"

All of a sudden, she was filled with a deadly calm. She remembered those words. "He touched Captain," she repeated slowly, fully feeling the effect of the phrase. All of her emotions subsided. She was in the eye of a hurricane, serenity surrounded by chaos. She pulled back and stared evenly into Sabrina's eyes. Such pretty eyes. "He touched Captain?"

"Lyn?" Sabrina asked cautiously. "Lyn, you're scaring me."

"Why are you being so nice?" Lyn said quietly. "Your captain almost touched Captain, but was killed before he could."

"I dunno." Sabrina shrugged uncomfortably. "You spared my life. I am forever in your debt."

Lyn's gaze hardened. "He touched Captain. Roland and Nessie allowed him to touch Captain." She looked around for her rapier and beads. Quickly locating them, she got up and shambled over to her sword, analyzing it full-mindedly. It was fairly banged up, minute dents marring its surface. It was reaching the point where the blade needed reforging or replacement. The hilt could probably be salvaged though. She hollowly picked it up and returned it to its sheath, wondering how she would proceed.

"Give me your sword," she mumbled to Sabrina.

"Why? What are you going to use it for?"

Electric blue eyes as cold as ice flicked upwards. "Give it to me."

"No," the swashbuckler said firmly. "Not until you tell me what you're going to use it for."

Lyn turned on her heel and began weaving her way through the combat, stooping over once in a while to investigate a fallen sword. Cutlasses, scimitars and rapiers all underwent inspection and were discarded shortly afterwards. She had absolutely no idea what she was looking for, only that she would know when she found it. She mindlessly retaliated to any attacks thrown in her direction, usually be ensnaring the offending limb or weapon with her beads and turning it aside. She would not be diverted from her search.

Finally, something interesting caught her eye. A glittering greatsword, half a length longer than her rapier was and as sharp as a razor, lay a few yards away. She ambled towards it and bent over to pick it up. A gauntleted hand closed over hers the instant her fingers touched the ridged grip, partially startling her out of her trance. She looked to the side in surprise, trying to figure out why somebody was stopping her.

"You, girl," Michael gasped, a crimson streamlet trickling from the corner of his mouth. "Have you ever… used a sword like this before?"

"No," she replied shortly.

He gave a bloody grin. "Well, it's double-sided. There's one edge pointed towards you. Remember that, girl."

Lyn nodded and hefted the weapon. The balance point of the sword was a lot farther down the blade than her rapier, so the weapon felt ten times heavier, but she thought she might be able to wield it two-handedly. Wrapping her beads around the grip, she held the sword steadily. She was used to a blade much thinner and lighter than this one. She supposed this was more of a hack and slashing sword instead of a thrusting one and swung it around experimentally. She was surprised how much force was required to aim her slice, doubly so for how much force she needed to bring the greatsword to a halt. She thrust out to see how that maneuver worked, then brought it around until it was raised vertically in front of her face, reflecting her steely blue eyes.

"You're scaring me," Sabrina said carefully, her buckler protecting her side. "Why do you have Michael's sword?"

The first mate looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Because justice needs to be served."

"No," Sabrina's voice was approaching a panicked yell. "This is not justice! Killing them won't bring your captain back!"

"I don't intend to kill them," Lyn stated in surprise. "I'm going to make it so they can't hurt anyone ever again."

Michael gave a feeble laugh, dragging himself a bit closer to the pair of women. "I like you, girl. What's your name, your true name?"

"I am E-" The pirate frowned to herself. Her name didn't start with an E, yet she had been so sure she had been about to tell the truth. She was going to resolve that problem later, though. There were other things to attend to. "I am Lyn, first mate of the Black Glove Pirates."

"Are you even listening to yourself, Lyn?" Sabrina shouted. "What happened to the woman who was one breath away from reviving an enemy she nearly killed? What happened to the woman who was so saddened by the death of her captain? Think, even for just one second! You're not just the first mate any more. You are the acting captain of your crew! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Lyn shook her head, snow-white strands of hair swaying before her eyes. "Captain isn't dead. She's just left us for a while. Besides, grief has no place on the battlefield. I will have time for mourning when justice has been served." That reminded her that all she had done towards delivering that justice was acquire a new weapon. She turned on her heel, scanning the battling forces for Nessie or Roland.

"What's going on?" Sabrina asked quietly. "You're not the woman I knew back on Summer Isle."

A sad smile graced the artist's lips. "No, but I'm the woman your grandmother knew back on Summer Isle."

The time for talking was over. She stalked through the crowd, greatsword at the ready. She was dimly aware of Sabrina following closely behind her, but she didn't care. So long as the other woman didn't try to get in her way, Lyn was completely fine with her presence. She did not stray from her path to the center of the room, where her two targets would no doubt catch sight of her. Her fingers rippled across the grip as she tightened her muscles in preparation for the fight she would have before her. She had no delusions that it would be easy, as her inexperience with the sword would undoubtedly cost her, but what she was about to do had to be done. Without fail.

She closed her eyes and mentally probed the greatsword. It was quite unlike her rapier, which had a more playful personality and enjoyed flying through the air to lightly kiss the enemy. Michael's weapon was much bolder and arrogant, initially angry at being handled by what it viewed as a pacifist. She showed her firm resolution and desire for righteous deliverance, imploring it to trust her will. Michael didn't need it any more and something deep inside of her wanted to use the weapon to protect her nakama. She felt satisfaction from both her and the sword, coming to a mutual agreement. It would cooperate and she would not stand down from her duties.

"There she is!" came the yell from above. She looked up to see Roland and Nessie leap off the second level and land in front of her. She would not be the first to act. Despite its agreement to work with her, she still wasn't sure what the sword was capable of. It was best to test its defense before working on offence.

"We been lookin' for ya, lassie," Roland sneered. "What's that you've got there? A pretty new dagger and you think you can stand up to us? Cast!"

Lyn somehow knew not to react. Sabrina lunged in front of her, catching the hooks on her buckler. Rolling to the side, she angled her sword around her shield and aimed it at the fisherman. "I'll handle this one, you get the girl!"

The first mate nodded and turned to the little Reichmann. She was, in Lyn's mind, the root of the problems and the source of the injustice. She had turned Roland. She had killed Envy. She had stopped Lyn from helping her captain. Nessie had to pay. Lyn leveled the sword at the Reichmann, staring coldly along its length. "Come."

"Seismic Yo-yo!" Nessie spun around and thrust her hand out, sending the yo-yo flying towards the first mate. Lyn tilted her greatsword and waited for the impact. While the collision knocked the sword backwards a few inches, the weapon held its ground against the destructive toy, sending it bouncing harmlessly off to the side. Lyn moved fluidly, dancing past her sword without moving it. Once she landed on the ground, she swung it around in a wide arc.

She couldn't believe it. The soul of the greatsword had responded with great zeal but in a most unexpected way. When she wanted her rapier to attack at a distance, the spirit flew out of the weapon and struck the enemy itself. Her new weapon's soul, on the other hand, remained within the sword and sent out a blade of compressed air instead. A jagged gash was carved into bookcases around Nessie, showing Lyn's lack of control. The only reason the Reichmann was unscathed was that Lyn had aimed a foot too high. The child was nevertheless shaken by the power of the attack, trembling slightly as she snapped her yo-yo back into her hand. "What the hell was that?"

"The administration of justice." Lyn ran forward, letting her greatsword trail behind her. The blade kicked up sparks whenever it touched the stone ground, but the pirate didn't think it got even a little scratched. Nessie sent out her yo-yo once more, but Lyn simply sidestepped this time, letting the toy glide past her. She didn't even attack with the sword, just bulling into the Reichmann and knocking her over. They both skidded to a halt, Lyn upright and Nessie on her back. The first mate glared resolutely down at her, dipping the point of her sword until it touched the child's forehead.

"You, Nessie Reichmann, are guilty of obstructing justice," she informed her target. "Your crimes: the unnecessarily cruel killing of your relative I know only as Envy and aiding your relative I know as General Taylor take away Captain Cassandra Negras. Your punishment will be administered by myself."

She slashed the yo-yo in half, forever preventing it from being used as a weapon again. She raised her sword up, fully intending to cut Nessie's arm and near-permanently disable it. Yet something held her back. She couldn't do this to a child whose mind was warped by the people she was related to by blood and she loved and respected. It wasn't fair. It wasn't justice.

She settled for embedding the greatsword an inch from the Reichmann's terrified face. Nessie's eyes rolled up into her head as she passed out from fear and shock. That was probably enough. She rested her gloved hand on the pommel of the sword and leaned heavily on it. "Justice has been served."

"Oh thank god." Sabrina came up from behind her and put her hand on Lyn's. "I was sure you were going to do something worse."

Lyn looked to the side, where Roland was lying on the ground. There was a terrible gash that extended along the bottom of his ribs almost to the center of his body. Clearly, Sabrina had no restraint when it came to dealing with enemies. When she pointed this out, the swashbuckler only shrugged. "You're a much better woman than I am. I do what I do and you do what you do."

The first mate opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a furious yell. "You! You're with her!"

She spun around to find a green-haired woman in a flowery dress standing at the edge of the clearing, ignoring all the combatants and focusing solely on Lyn. "Crucifix, was it? What are you-"

Crucifix leapt high into the air, whirling her segmented staff around. The instant her foot contacted the floor she was dashing forward with surprising speed. Lyn felt Sabrina press against her side, buckler held between them and the approaching woman. The woman's body felt strangely comforting and Lyn suddenly felt a lot safer than she had been a moment before. "I defend, you attack, got it?" the swashbuckler asked.

"Yup!" Unwrapping her beads from the greatsword and letting the cumbersome weapon fall to the ground, she unsheathed her rapier and got ready for the attack. "Remind me to thank you properly when we're done!"

Sabrina turned to look at her, a surprised smile spreading across her face. "You're back!"

"What are you talking about, silly Sabrina?" Lyn asked. "I never left. Oop, here she comes!"

Crucifix was upon them like a tornado. Despite Sabrina's recommended division of labor, Lyn found herself defending just as heatedly as the swashbuckler was. The segmented staff seemed to be everywhere at once. The wooden rods bounced off of swords, shield, beads and skin. Whenever the ends hit her, Lyn scrunched up her face with pain. "Your leader betrayed us all! She was too weak not to be swayed by the Reichmanns! I always knew she believed more in the coin than in the ideal!"

And Lyn's rapier went right back into its sheath, forcing Sabrina to take the entirety of the attack. She picked up the greatsword with both hands, eyes hard as she prepared herself to attack. "For Captaaaaaaaain!" The battlecry rolled out of her mouth as she swung the sword around with all her might.

The razor-sharp edge sliced through the wooden rod like it wasn't even there. Crucifix didn't halt despite the division of her weapon, gripping the wooden halves and swinging the attached segments in tight circles. She leapt forward and twisted about, hurling one end towards the two pirates. Sabrina raised her buckler in time but was still bowled over by the powerful throw. Crucifix seized a nearby pole and leveled it towards Lyn, her green eyes narrowing threateningly. "You are the one I want, traitress. Prepare yourself."

"Hastily jumping to conclusions can lead to grave misunderstandings," Lyn replied evenly. "Taco de Billar!"

Crucifix rapped the blade with her staff, sending Lyn plunging off course. Rather than attempting to guide her greatsword back on target, the first mate whipped her beads off of the grip and spun on the ball of her foot, using the beads to block Crucifix's vision. The green-haired woman closed her eyes as the prayer beads bounced off her face and Lyn seized the opportunity, kicking Crucifix hard in the side of the knee. The leg buckled slightly, then folded completely under the second kick. Crucifix rolled to the side, springing to her feet an instant later.

"Shards of Agony!" Sabrina leapt back into the fray, her side-sword flashing forward in a devastating series of blows. For the first time, concern began to appear on Crucifix's face as she attempted to parry or deflect all of the blows. Lyn flowed around her partner's body like a river, her own greatsword forcing the green-haired woman back even farther. A cry of frustration and panic came from her throat as she took more and more steps backwards, trying to keep the blades from cutting her flesh. Her attention was focused too much on the two women attacking her and she stumbled over a downed body. Lyn and Sabrina took advantage of the situation, swinging their swords down synchronously.

Crucifix's green eyes were as wide as dinner plates as the two swords halted an inch from her neck. She froze completely, not daring to move a muscle. Tears of anger came to her eyes and her mouth twisted in fury. "It's not right! Your captain took away a man of justice!"

"Taylor Monchstein is Tolstoy Reichmann," Sabrina said simply. "The man you followed was only using you to reclaim his seat. Lyn's captain was only ridding the world of a despicable human being. It's just a shame that she had to perish-"

She shouted in surprise as Lyn shoved her over, dropping her sword and buckler with a clatter. "Don't you dare!" Lyn stated sternly, hands on her hips. "Don't you dare say she's dead! She's Captain, who stood up to even Damien's attack! She can't be dead! She just can't be!" Tears were running down her face as she continued to rant. "She has a dream to accomplish! She needs to become Pirate Queen! She can't die until she's Pirate Queen, no, even then she can't! Only the crew of the Pirate Queen can see the ends of the earth, find the strongest fighters to fight, gather an audience large enough to play for! She-"

All of a sudden, something struck the side of her head, causing stars to explode into her vision. Turning in shock, she saw Crucifix winding back for another swing, tears flowing down her own cheeks. "I don't believe you," she murmured softly. The second swing knocked Lyn unconscious.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Alexander felt like a puppet that had its strings cut as his Captain and General Taylor disappeared from view. It wasn't possible. He shambled towards the windows at the end of the hall, ignoring the fighting erupting behind him. It wasn't possible. His dirtied dress shoes trailed against the floor as he made his way through the pieces of solidified lava and the debris from their attacks. It wasn't possible. His fingerless glove brushed his slightly ragged black pants, as he approached the glass panes. It wasn't possible. The window was partially cracked, which rendered him unable to easily see through it, but a swift transmutation to water changed that.

It wasn't possible.

He gazed into the abyss below him, the darkness that had long since enveloped the rebel leader and the pirate captain. His legs gave out from underneath him and he fell to his knees, resting on the metal support that had previously held the window in place. Fat tears hung in his eyes and his throat felt constricted. He realized his head was shaking slightly from side to side as he tried to deny what he had seen. If only he didn't know from personal experience how far down the drop was. Captain was a regular human, not a woman who could fall hundreds of feet unscathed.

It wasn't fair. She had responsibilities to fulfill. She couldn't just abandon them, not when she was so closely bonded with the crew. She and she alone was Captain. Nobody else could be. What were they going to do now? They had nowhere to go without her. How would they continue to fight? She couldn't possibly be dead. There had to be another explanation. She survived, by some miracle. No other possibility was acceptable.

"Sssssssloth!" He dimly registered the originator of the shout to be Naga, but otherwise had no reaction. "Do not sssssimply ssssstand assssside!"

He turned jerkily around, staring at the three Devil Fruit users. Avarice the Paramecia was encased in vines and loping threateningly towards him, while Naga the Zoan and Excel the Logia circled each other cautiously. The most pressing concern was the green mass approaching him. The alchemist wouldn't last long in a free-for-all, especially not with the elementalist who could go toe-to-toe with Damien for more than a few seconds. He needed an ally and there was only one who he could ask. "Naga! We need to cooperate!"

The Snake Man nodded, morphing into his hybrid form as he skipped a step away from Excel. He used his powerful snake body to launch himself in Alexander's direction. Avarice turned to face him and skidded to a stop. "So you're sticking by her too, traitor! And through what action did she gain your loyalty?"

"You sssssshould not be assssking me that quesssstion," Naga spat as he hustled towards them. "Sssssshe wasss your leader."

"She was no leader of mine," Avarice sneered. "General Taylor was the one paying for my services. Any rabble that follows from pure devotion deserves to be cut off from their ridiculous attachment."

Alexander froze. Why did people have to mock the bond the crew had with Captain? Was it not enough to lose her, even temporarily? Raw, unfiltered anger towards Avarice filled his breast and he felt himself practically swelling up. "Are you so shortsighted that money is your only objective, Avarice? I never knew your alias suited you so well."

"Only a fool believes that money isn't power," Avarice shouted. "And I intend to be the most powerful man in West Blue! No, the world! Nobasu!"

He twisted his body and threw out a punch. Much to Alexander's surprise, the arm extended and sped towards the approaching Naga. The blue-painted warrior reacted quickly, dodging around the viny limb. The end curled around and shot back towards Avarice, snagging Naga from behind. The latter morphed into a massive snake to stretch the vines, then back into his normal human form, sliding between the hole he had created. Picking his damaged trident up from where he had dropped it, he brought it around in a wide arc, scything clean through the green limb. Avarice chose to shrink and regrow his limb, spreading his legs apart and bouncing slightly in anticipation.

"Don't fucking ignore me!" Excel bellowed, sending a stream of lava arcing through the air. "I am Excel, the greatest Lava Man in history!"

Despite the man's protest, Naga was still keeping his sole eye on the elementalist. Avarice saw the incoming attack and began hastily sidestepping to avoid it. "Naga, watch out!" Alexander yelled, but the Zoan simply snarled and darted after Avarice. The plume of lava twisted until it formed the head of a serpentine dragon, redirecting its course to swallow both of the fighters in one gulp of its dripping jaws. "Watch out!"

"Fangsss of Ssssstormrage!" Naga hissed dangerously, thrusting repeatedly with his trident and sending two-pronged blue-white blades soaring towards Avarice. The blades flew through Avarice's vines like a mower cutting grass, green tendrils falling to the floor and out of existence. The Paramecia dashed away, bleeding from where the blades had hit his human body. Oblivious of the sizzling dragon bearing down upon him, Naga chased after Avarice, his trident gripped in white-knuckled fists.

"**Naga**!" What seemed like a contained explosion ripped the area in front of the alchemist apart. Stone shards whistled through the air as if driven by the winds of a hurricane. Excel's reptant consolidation of lava dematerialized in a flurry of molten globs. Avarice and Naga tumbled head over heels, eventually crashing to a stop along the far wall. When everything stopped moving at such high speeds, all that remained was the hot dust slowly drifting through the air.

The Lava Man turned to Alexander in surprise, absentmindedly raking his hand through his hair to push it back into place. "Damn, boy! Where the hell did that come from? Were you holding out on us all this time?"

Alexander was as shaken as the others. What had just happened? There was only one explanation he could think of. Somehow, he was using his own voice as the medium for channeling the voices of the spirits. The shamans had only ever told of two other practitioners who had attempted such a feat. They had been some of the greatest elders ever to live on the island, their ability even rivaling the legendary colors of Haki. It was said one even had an audience with one of the Pirate Kings and met him eye to eye. Such a power was almost unbelievable.

"Answer me, boy!" Excel roared. "Dragon Spit!" He flicked his fingers on both hands, sending globules careening towards the stunned pirate.

Alexander's eyes snapped up and his brilliant mind raced as it ran through the possibilities. He could try to demonstrate that power again, but he dared not risk his life on it. He settled for kicking off sideways, the red hot wads whizzing over his head. Clumsily rolling to his feet, he turned his head to see where Avarice and Naga had gotten to. The pair was staggering upright, still dazed at being struck with the full force of his attack. They wouldn't be much help right now.

"Dragon Tail!" Excel whirled around, the string of lava rocketing towards the musician. Alexander barely had time to create a knee-deep pool below him and fall into it to avoid the attack. Pulling himself over the lip of the water-filled hole, he rolled across the ground until he faced the Logia user. Another tail was soaring downward towards him, so he just adjusted the angle of his body and continued spinning along the floor. As a giant scar was melted into the ornate stone tiles, he stumbled to his feet and looked Excel in the eye.

Much to Alexander's surprise, Excel moved his foot forward and seemed to trip over nothing, forced to jerkily regain his balance with a few tottering steps. He looked just as astonished as Alexander was, his hand going to his chest. "What the hell? What did you do to me?"

The alchemist remembered the reason and almost smiled in relief. Naga's poison was beginning to go to work. Soon, the Lava Man would be dead. Apparently Excel reached the same conclusion, for unadulterated ire spread across his face. "Not just me, trash! All of you are coming with me! Furnace of the Earth!"

"Voix Sonnerie!" Alexander shouted, hoping his feat from earlier could be duplicated. Excel was crouched over, gathering the energy from his attack. "Voix Sonnerie! Voix Sonnerie!" He suddenly recalled his feelings at the moment of his surge in power and thought he knew what to do. Regretfully and painfully, he brought Captain's confident smile to his eyes. He closed his eyes to block out the tears and filled his chest with air. "**Voix Sonnerie**!"

This time, he could hear the multitude of voices calling out alongside his own. It sounded like a thousand battle-ready warriors were all simultaneously bellowing their warcries, a thousand monks humming in one meditative drone, a thousand orchestras playing the same note as loudly as possible. It had an awesome, terrible quality that shook Alexander to his core. Never before had he attempted to channel so many spirits at once. His body felt like it would burst at the seams. The very sound of it filled his ears and nearly deafened him.

The power of the attack was similarly impressive: shockwave met shockwave in a cataclysmic collision. Alexander had firmly planted his feet on the ground and braced himself, yet even then he was swept off his feet and sent twisting across the ground. The entire glass ceiling blasted apart, sending dangerously sharp shards hurtling downwards like some great hailstorm. Avarice encased himself in tough stone he drew from the marble floor and Excel merely let the shards melt onto his skin, but Naga and Alexander were forced to hide as best they could from the onslaught.

After what seemed like an eternity, the deadly rain petered off. The well-dressed pirate brushed his silk nightcap out of his eyes and groaned as he lay on the floor. From the pain shooting through his body, he had been speared in at least three places. Even trying to shift his body resulted in agony unlike anything he had ever experienced before. Blood was trickling down the curve of his lips, indicating a thin gash along his cheek. Gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut, he rolled his muscles to determine where exactly the shards were.

He started with his arms. They had been peppered by smaller shards and were doubtlessly covered in bleeding cuts, but they were otherwise fine. His back was next and that was met with two areas of almost intolerable pain. Waiting for the waves of dizziness to subside, he gingerly brought his arms off of the floor and felt around for his injuries. The instant his fingertip brushed the piece sticking out of his lower back, he screamed out in anguish. There was no way he was going to stand physically extracting it from his body. He tried mustering his energy and was surprised to find he wasn't even approaching being tired. Grinning at that small miracle, he whispered, "Eau Magie."

He almost regretted destroying the shirt and jacket he had been wearing, but they were probably ruined beyond repair. Water and blood pooled around him, chilling his skin. He tried moving and realized that there were two pieces stuck in his right thigh. These he could touch with his hand and melt away without completely disregarding his modesty. He briefly reflected that he was clothed in much the same way as his longtime friend, though there was no chance that he was getting rid of his shoes. Satisfied that he wasn't going to pass out from loss of blood, he delicately pushed himself to his hands and knees and stared around.

Much to his deepest dismay, Excel was striding proudly towards him, a dangerous light in his carmine eyes. Upon seeing he had the alchemist's attention, he grinned malevolently. His mouth opened and closed, obviously forming words, but no sound came out. Alexander blinked cluelessly and shook his head. Excel frowned and repeated himself, this time forming dimly audible words. Alexander hung his head and worked on moving his legs into a sitting position.

"Listen to me, you little shit!" The Lava Man's voice sounded like he was yelling across a canyon. "Can you hear me!"

Too exhausted to raise his voice any more, Alexander simply nodded his head. His frown replaced by grim satisfaction, Excel repeated what he said the first time. "It looks like your little trick came back to bite you in the ass, now didn't it?"

"Back off, Excel," Avarice shouted. He sounded as if he were deep underwater. This turned out to be half true, as Alexander discovered when he swiveled his head to look at the elementalist. For some reason, he had switched out his rock armor for water again. "He's going to pay for that and his traitorous bitch of a captain."

Excel chose to respond by hurling a ball of lava at the Paramecia user. Avarice was forced to bend aside, the attack punching a hole through the elemental's head. His face contorting with irritation, he threw out his hand and spread out his fingers. When he turned it into a fist, water began visibly flowing from around his body to the area around his hand. Somehow, despite the quantity of water vanishing, the elemental's fist wasn't growing any larger. Clearly, he was compressing the water with extreme pressure.

When he extended his fingers towards the Lava Man and mouthed an indistinct attack, a geyser of liquid rocketed forward. Excel had seen the attack coming and had turned most of his body into crackling lava, but sheer force of the water hitting him solidified his torso and crumbled it away. When the stream cut off, he was left with a gigantic hole between his sternum and pelvis, his arms, head and legs all seemingly connected by one tendril of lava.

Something about what the richly-clad man had done struck Alexander. Ignoring the fact that Excel was already reforming his body and preparing to retaliate, he stared at his hands in puzzlement. He slowly curled his fingers into a fist and clenched as tightly as he could. He was reminded of when the seastone had dampened his powers and it had built up in his body. Maybe he didn't need the ring to block his energy from being used. Maybe he could block it on his own.

He was distracted from his thoughts when he felt something rest on his shoulder. Whirling around, he stood face-to-face with a heavily-wounded Naga, large shards of glass sticking out of his back like grotesque dorsal fins. Small bits were sprouting from his arms and legs, all of them oozing blood. His flat-eyed stare was no less keen, however, and he looked as fierce as ever. "We ssshould sssssseize the opportunity and sssssstrike while they are disssstracted with one another. Are you ssssstill able to fight?"

"I'm fine." The two words sounded like they were coming from another man, one who had gone for weeks without water. Running his tongue along his dry lips, Alexander tried again. "I can still perform alechemy. What do you have in mind?"

"My venom isssss potent," the Snake Man whispered. "Ekssssssel sshould not be an issue."

Alexander gave a weary, wry smile as he flexed his fingers. "I have an idea that will leave Avarice in a deep state of puzzlement. Maybe we should wait until they've weakened each other further?"

Naga's reptilian gaze slid over to the other Devil Fruit users, who were fiercely locked in combat. "To rissssk them catching on and exssssspecting ussss iss unwissse. We sssshall sssstrike now!"

"No, I really think-" Sadly, the musician's protests were in vain. Transforming into his hybrid form, Naga sprang forward with a powerful thrust of his coils. Whirling about, he crashed the rattle at the end of his tail into Avarice's marble-white side. True to Naga's word, the elementalist was caught completely unawares and the rock humanoid crumbled neatly in two. The legs shattered on the floor and faded from existence while the top half shrunk until it was little larger than a regular human. Clearly, Avarice did not want to be unarmed while stuck between two fighters out for his blood.

"Would you all stop interfering with my goddamned fight!" Excel howled furiously. "Dragon Explosion!"

Tendrils of lava in the shape of draconic serpents sped out of his cloak like bullets, tearing through everything in their path. It took all of Alexander's rather limited agility to dodge the attack. His arm was stretched out behind him and he was pouring all of his energy into his gloved hand. He could feel the pressure building up like water inside a blocked hose. His fingers were trembling and his breath began to come in labored pants. As Excel's attacks tapered off, the alchemist seized his chance. Driving his fist forward, he gave a mighty cry. "Pierre Magie!"

The Logia user didn't even have time to react. With one burst of released energy, Alexander punched his opponent with all his might. For a split second, the skin on his knuckles seared off and a scream tore up his throat. As he released all of the pain he was feeling, he watched as Excel instantly turned into solid stone. Everybody froze at this, unsure of how to proceed. Face contorted with agony, Alexander swayed on his feet as he clutched his injured hand. In the end, his legs couldn't support him and he slumped to the ground. He was fairly sure that Excel would survive, being naturally composed of an element anyway, but even so his heart skipped a beat. The words Captain had said, he refused to believe they were the last words she would ever say to him, ran through his mind. He would not be responsible for the death of another person. Not today. Not ever.

Much to his combined relief and dismay, the stone figure began to glow and ooze into the floor. As he melted into a puddle, the lava morphed into the appearance of a face bearing a devilish grin. "D-damn you all. I'll… be…"

It continued to seep into the floor and out of sight, bubbling sluggishly as it descended. Alexander peered into the hole, watching as it receeded from sight. Abruptly, it accelerated, soon vanishing from sight. The musician heaved a breath of liberation, feeling like all of his troubles were over. He was sadly reminded that he had one more opponent to deal with when a foot encased in stone collided with his side, breaking at least three of his ribs. He was launched across the room, slamming into the glass-strewn floor with an excruciating impact. He could barely breathe, he could barely move. His glasses were missing a lens, his left eye staring sightlessly ahead.

"Ow…" he mumbled, his eyes flickering shut for a moment. His right hand was resting bloodily before his face and he stared unevenly at it. His glove was tattered and torn, the black cloth barely hanging on to his flesh. He couldn't lose it now. He would not lose his visible connection to his crew. If he planned to do something, he would have to think of another way.

The sound of boneshattering blows being exchanged filled his ears, drawing his attention back to where he had been struck. Naga and a larger rock elemental were fighting furiously. Miraculously, the Zoan user was using the glass shards in his back offensively, dragging them against the stone arms and carving deep gashes. His scaly fists were pummeling Avarice zealously, belying the grievous injuries Naga had already sustained. Despite his ferocious attack, the unwounded Avarice was gaining the upper hand, his calmness helping to keep his punches and kicks accurate. Alexander had to do something, or Naga would be overwhelmed. The well-dressed pirate would have no chance if that happened.

Somehow pulling himself to his feet, he broke into a shambling run, putting as little pressure on his wounds as possible. It seemed like his entire right side was damaged severely. He had to make it there before Avarice finished Naga off. He only wished the elementalist weren't so naturally strong. He had been kicked quite a distance, but any delay might be fatal to both of them. Scrunching up his face as he tried to push the waves of piercing pain rushing through his entire body, he hobbled forward as fast as he could. He tucked his left hand by his side and poured all of his remaining energy into it. Much to his surprise, a faint glowing circle surrounded his clenched fist. He didn't think he was doing anything differently. Maybe he just hadn't been paying attention the first time.

He reached them just as Avarice slugged Naga in his scorched eye. The half-man was sent flying into the far wall, stuck fast in the unforgiving stone. Alexander's fingers brushed the surface of the marble elemental and he gave an exhausted grin. "Or… Magie."

Avarice froze, unable to move. The sunlight glinted off of the thick gold wrapped around the Paramecia user, filling the room with an ethereal yellow radiance. As Alexander suspected, the elementalist was stuck. His most beloved metal was surrounding his body, but if he disturbed it, it might break. Worse, when he released it, all of the gold would simply disappear. In his moment of indecision, Alexander pushed as hard as he could. Neither of them moved. He tried again, but still couldn't budge the heavy gold statue.

Sighing, he brought all of the most painful memories he had to mind. He made sure to keep any emotion from registering on his face and opened his mouth widely. "**Voix Sonnerie**!" Under the immense force issuing from the musician's mouth, Avarice teetered towards the hole Excel had made, his limbs suddenly windmilling as he tried to regain his balance. Unable to correct himself in time, he tumbled into the hole, disappearing from view.

Alexander was finally done. He suddenly felt more tired than he ever had before, even more than after his impressive transmutation on Winter Isle. A satisfied grin on his face, he fell to the floor and blacked out.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Raven couldn't understand what was going on. One moment she had been attempting to attack Nikolai Reichmann and the next she was seeing Cassandra was being pushed out of the window with a spear through her abdomen. Her limbs reacted slowly and she found herself once again being smacked out of the air by Nikolai's Minehammer. She crashed into the marble floor, feeling the rock shatter around her. Only her hardened muscles protected her bones and organs from being pulverized. As she released the iron-like effect, she decided to lie on the ground for a moment while she figured out what to do next.

Cassandra might be dead, but it was just as likely that she was alive too. The best solution seemed to be to exit the current battle and check on the falling pirate. However, there was little chance of that happening; the black-clad Reichmann had been particularly keen on keeping her and Deus in his "web." Because he was faster than she was, he had been doing a magnificent job on his part. To break out of his clutches, she would need Damien. Attracting the berserker's attention was difficult, which she hadn't expected. She had assumed that after attacking him, his blind rivalry with her would draw him out of whatever fight he was embroiled in and come to her side to attack her. Clearly, Tango was doing everything in his power to subdue the navigator and was succeeding in doing so.

"This has to end," she murmured to herself.

Despite the softness of her words, Nikolai cocked his head and taunted her. "But the little blackbird can't make it end. Only when the Nebula Spider is finished will it end."

All of a sudden, the room blackened as if coated in ink. Every waking eye turned to the only source of light in the entire hall. Damien was pushing himself to his feet, Tango's hand pulling away from his throat as the mercenary retreated to better analyze what was going on. The heavily-wounded pirate stood lazily in the center of a murky cyclone, head hanging back, half-lidded eyes staring upwards. He opened his mouth and an unearthly howl came forth, as if all the animals in the world were crying out at once. His flames were absorbed into the black vortex surrounding him, leaving his form simply glowing orange. The unceasing wail grew louder and louder until even Raven had to cover her ears. A wave of killing intent that paralleled that of her father, rushed through the room, causing every heart to beat just a little bit faster.

What was most incredible was the shape of some primal beast congealing around his form. For a moment, he seemed encased in a fiery demon, horn-like ears sprouting from his head and a lengthy tail growing from the base of his spine. Most of the mercenaries were screaming in terror at the sight, furiously scrambling away from him. His dreadlocks began to float in the air as if he were submerged in water. What Raven definitely didn't expect was for both of his arms to drift out to the sides. His sinister black armguard began to turn bright orange as his body temperature increased.

Then, not unlike a marionette with its strings cut, his arms dropped to his sides and his head bowed forward. The beast of flame shrunk around him, being sucked into certain areas of his body. Small bright patches centered onto the places where his injuries were most grievous. The places where weapons were sticking out of his torso in particular were targeted, the sword blade melting away as a small crosshatch covered his wound. A dense web of fiery stands encased his left arm, melting clear through his armguard. The navigator stared in amazement as he flexed his fingers and moved his arm from side to side. Everyone else stared in amazement at the spectacle before them.

One of the many notes running through Raven's mind was that Damien had just regained the use of his ordinarily useless appendage. The most pressing thought, however, was dealing with a peculiar sensation. While she normally had no issue with Damien's insatiable bloodlust, for once she wanted to join him. She wanted to exact as much pain as she could on the people who had prevented her from helping Cassandra. No, she simply wanted to hurt everyone but Damien and Deus as badly as she could. And she was the best of the Black Glove Pirates at hurting people.

Taking advantage of everyone's distraction, Raven cut a hole in her skintight suit between her breasts and reached inside, withdrawing an ornately decorated necklace. At the end of the thin black chain lay a vial filled with a dark crimson liquid. The seven gods of death were inscribed on the vial in black-filled carvings with Raven's family seal embossed in the middle. She took a small syringe out of one of her countless pockets and inserted it into the top, drawing out a measure of the liquid. Holding up the syringe, she stared at it impassively. Then, without a moment's hesitation, she injected it into her arm.

It felt like she had filled her arm with liquid lightning. She felt more vitalized than she ever had before, her body nearly bursting with contained energy. She fought to keep her limbs from trembling as she felt the fluid surge through her. Her eyes closed; her breathing increased; her fingers and toes curled up tightly. It took a great deal of self-control to relax her body again and she was left shaking slightly from the effort. She felt like she could do anything.

Ignoring the motionless fighters all around her, she slowly walked up to Damien, staring deeply into his eyes. The berserker was breathing heavily, apparently waiting for something. Stopping before him, she gazed up at him and whispered, "I understand you."

A snarling laugh burbled up Damien's throat, his blood-filled eyes looking sightlessly back at her. She dimly registered the battle resuming again, but Deus was keeping the mercenaries away from the pair of pirates. The fire wrapped around his arm and patching up his body pulsed as if connected to his heartbeat. Her own heart was thumping rapidly as she reached up and gently placed her hand on his chest. His flames parted for her hand, allowing her to feel his pounding heart, to feel his lifeblood moving through his body. Raven had never expected to ever feel a connection to the sadistic navigator, but miraculously she did. If only the connection hadn't come from Cassandra's fall.

A vicious rictus appeared on Damien's face, accompanied by a rumble deep in his chest that sounded like the beginnings of a volcanic eruption. Without warning, his left arm burst forward with alarming speed, nearly taking her head off. She twisted to the side and retaliated, her waspknife pricking the skin on his neck. The navigator didn't even notice the small wound among the more severe ones decorating his body. Then, turning synchronously to face their opponents, they rejoined the fray.

Both pirates decided to go after Tango and his mercenaries, leaving Deus to deal with Nikolai on his own. Raven kicked off hard and found herself speeding towards the far corner of the room. Clearly, she was unused to having so much power. Correcting herself in midair, she zipped towards the mechanical armor of Tango, swiftly analyzing his weak spots. She had to admit that the creator of the battlesuit knew how to make battlesuits quite well, for the overlapping metal plates offered very little in terms of vulnerability. The joints were protected efficiently and the weapons were wrapped in thick armor. Even the parts Damien had damaged were still quite sturdy. She wished she had Cassandra's sniper rounds, which could penetrate through much thicker defenses than this.

Suddenly, she was struck with an absurd idea. Her ancestors had created six basic techniques: two offensive, two defensive and two utility. But on top of that, they made three advanced skills as well. In order to learn these moves, one required absolute mastery over the basic techniques before attempting the advanced ones. She was nowhere near that level of proficiency with the six, but she felt that doing the advanced offensive technique could be done in this situation. In the back of her mind, she knew the risks of attempting the maneuver before she was ready, but for some reason, something inside of her was telling her to ignore the potential dangers and focus on the potential benefits.

"Akat." She was hovering before Tango before anybody could react. She thrust out her fists, holding them one on top of the other with her palms facing inwards. Spacing them about a foot apart, she concentrated as hard as she could, recalling what she had investigated about this particular technique. "Udu Aran Shaatii."

It felt like a bomb had detonated in the space between her fists. If not for Damien somehow standing behind her, she would have been launched across the room. His firm muscles absorbed the impact of her body hitting his, reducing the severity of her injuries. As it was, her arms fell slightly to her side, as exhausted as if she had been sparring for days without rest. She looked down to see that her sleeves had been torn apart up to her elbows, revealing the prominent black veins swirling around her forearms. Tango was only knocked over backwards, indicating that her attack had failed.

Despite her lack of success, she was nowhere near ready to give up. She tapped her palms to extend her waspknives, only to find that they too had been damaged by the backlash of the attack. Shaking them from her wrists, she tensed her body and prepared to renew her assault. As she did, she felt Damien's muscles tighten as he extended his wings. She knew that they were about to attack and whatever got in their way would be eliminated. In the back of her mind, she registered the absurdity of the two of them cooperating for once. She knew that Damien would probably attack her as well, but if she reacted accordingly, that should only work to their advantage. Crouching slightly, she flexed her fingers and murmured, "Teufelschattel."

In the space of five seconds, they slaughtered twenty men.

Raven used every technique she had ever trained, regardless of whether she had spent fifteen seconds or fifteen years working on it. Blades of compressed air shot out of her feet, her fingers found the fleshier parts of her adversaries, her fists, elbows and knees collided with lightning-fast speed. She punctured kidneys, crushed throats and sliced stomachs in half. She even managed to rip out one mercenary's heart by driving her hand underneath his ribcage and extract the still-beating organ. She didn't hesitate to blind the dying man with his own bleeding heart to remove him from combat.

What Damien lacked in extreme speed, he made up in raw power. With the regained use of his left arm, he was in full control of his body. He could balance himself out more easily and shift his weight instantly to where he wanted it to be. The force of his punches was great enough to penetrate the mercenaries' bodies without sending them flying. His claws shredded anything in his path, his wings provided an indestructible screen between him and his foes and his fires seared the flesh off of anyone unfortunate enough to be struck by them.

They didn't let up on their onslaught even after the bodies landed on the floor. They both tore after Tango, who was backing away as fast as he could in an attempt to put some distance between him and the relentless pirates. But he was no match for Damien's speed when he was in his bloodrage and Raven's when she was intent on obliterating him. They assaulted the thick armor in an unyielding stream of blows, the navigator pounding away in an attempt to dent Tango's battlesuit while the doctor attempted to pierce through the points her crewmate had weakened. He tried to fight back, bullets rattling out of the machine gun attached to one wrist and nevermeltice pouring out of the other. The bullets were dodged or deflected easily, but the small blue crystals were giving Damien some trouble. Without a mouthguard to keep from inhaling the dangerous substance, he was beginning to have trouble breathing. Raven knew she would have to deal with it after the fight, but she also knew that nothing short of an assault from one of the relatively few fighters more determined than him would keep the berserker down.

"What madness is this?" Tango cried, sparks beginning to jet out of various tracks in his suit. "All of my reports indicate that you should be dead by now! Why do you not fall? Why do you persist?"

Damien's response was a bestial roar that loosened a few panes of broken glass from the windows. Raven's was far more articulate. "The will of one of the greatest women in the world lives on through him. She believed in his dream and he in hers. Both of us know how she might have survived her fall and both of us need to be alive for her. We would both give our lives for her and only for her. If it does not serve her, we will never fall."

The navigator drove all ten claws into two areas in the battlesuit that he and Raven had assaulted most vigourously and actually managed to penetrate the thick metal plate. Howling victoriously, he lifted the mercenary off the ground entirely and began squeezing as hard as he could. This, the black-clad pirate reflected, was actually extremely advantageous to her. She flitted between the two combatants and nestled herself between Damien's outstretched arms, using him for support. Aligning her arms with his, she extended her fists once more and concentrated hard on the point inside the battlesuit she was targeting. "Udu Aran Shaatii."

That same contained explosion rocked all three of them. This time, the backlash was much less severe, partially because she was braced against her crewmate and partially because she had tried to use the technique in a much different manner. The results of her attack were much more evident this time. Tango let out a mechanical scream of pain and the battlesuit seemed to burst at the seams, sparks erupting forth like fireworks. Blood accompanied the flecks of energy as a fine red mist being emitted from the pressurized machine. The battlesuit slumped to the ground, its occupant seriously wounded or dead.

This wasn't enough for the demonic sadist. He lit into the fallen mercenary with a renewed fury, his claws carving deeper and deeper into the metal. He soon gained enough purchase to pry off the chest piece, exposing the maimed man within. Tango looked out through blackened eyes, his entire body a mess of bruises. "Have… mercy…" he gasped, blood spattering out of his mouth.

Damien grabbed him by the neck and forcibly pulled him out, breaking Tango's arms and legs as they came free from the battlesuit. Raven rested a hand on his arm and miraculously the navigator paused, glaring down at her furiously. "I can send him off far better than you can. Go help Deus confront Nikolai. I shall be there momentarily."

The navigator's grip tightened, causing Tango to emit short squeaks of pain. Finally, the dark-skinned pirate dropped the battered mercenary and bounded away, his battle roar fiercer than ever. Raven pinned Tango to the ground benearth one firm hand, slowly guiding her fingers across his forehead. Finding the spot she was looking for, she stared deep into his eyes and whispered, "Ghaashurz Nûl."

She flicked the center of his forehead, pouring as much of her killer intent as she could into that feather-light strike. Tango began to convulse as his body was wracked with pain, his head starting to thrash from side to side. Raven stood up and stared at him mercilessly, watching him begin to truly experience the extent of her abilities. Upon the first of his earsplitting cries, she turned her back to him and kicked off. There was one more opponent who needed her attention.

"So the blackbird decides to come and join, has she?" Nikolai taunted, still as elusive as ever. "Even the devil cannot break the strands of a web he cannot see!"

Deus fell to the ground and she sped over to him, analyzing him to see if he had any superficial injuries. She saw several, but dismissed them as inconsequential and focused on Damien and his uncontrollable attacks on the mysterious Reichmann. The swordsman glanced up at her, groaning slightly as he flexed his muscles to check for wounds. "Glad to see you're back with us, Sin. Tell me, what was it you figured out about him?"

"He has consumed a Devil Fruit." There was still a possibility that he actually hadn't, but it made more sense to think of it that way. "He is able to move through the reflections in the mirrors. That is how he seems to appear and disappear even faster than I can. Even my grandfather cannot travel faster than light itself. His ability does have one downside though: he needs the mirrors to attack. That is why he does not easily shift areas in the manor to defend. It also makes it much harder to evict once he has settled in."

"Great," Deus groaned, probing an exposed area of his back where his shirt had been torn. "So all we need to do is destroy those mirrors. Wait a second, what happened to your eyes?"

Raven glanced at a nearby mirror to see what he was talking about. For some reason, both of her eyeballs were darker than the depths of the underworld. It was as if someone had bored two holes into her head, removing the white that normally surrounded her jet black pupils. She supposed it was a side effect of what she had injected into her body. Seeing as how it wasn't impeding her ability to fight, she dismissed it and turned back to the swordsman. "You and Damien break the mirrors. I will keep him distracted."

"Yes, ma'am," Deus replied with a small, bloody grin. He got to his feet and cocked his sword, preparing for his attack. Clenching his jaw, he twisted his body and yelled, "Kami no Todoki!"

In one swing, he demolished nearly half of the mirrors in the room. Nikolai froze in midair; the mirror he had been moving towards was suddenly in pieces. This split-second of vulnerability was enough for Raven to rocket in front of him and jab her finger forward. He managed to find a different mirror, but still received a bullet-like wound in his shoulder. It was the first wound he had acquired during the entire battle, but it was enough to slow him considerably. His hidden eyes whirled around until they finally fell on Deus, identifying him as the source of his misery. "Oh, you should not have tried to squish the Nebula Spider like that. It's time to pay, mantis! Minehammer!"

Raven saw the trajectory of the incoming attack, but felt no need to intervene. Her charge was Damien, not the man with the katana. She thought that Deus was no longer necessary to finish off Nikolai and as such had no reason for being protected. Deus, too, saw the attack coming, but when he tried to move, his leg gave way and he slumped to the side. The Mirror Man completed the attack, driving the large hammer into the back of Deus' head. The swordsman was sent flying towards the far wall, eventually coming to a sickening stop as he impacted the hard surface.

The curvaceous doctor was forced to dodge the set of flaming claws that materialized before her face. Dealing Damien a few blows that would have crippled an ordinary man, she zipped down to the mirror level and spun around, sending another blade of air from the bottom of her fist. "Fra Furtun."

Several mirrors shattered in half, but not enough to keep Nikolai from reflecting himself to the far end of the room. She couldn't let him escape; that would be erroneous. She darted after him, Damien close on her heels. Zigzagging through the mirrors with the knowledge that the navigator would simply smash through them, she accelerated towards the fleeing Reichmann. Damien almost caught up to her at one point, showing his steep increase in speed with the regained use of his left arm. She dimly registered that her arms would probably become useless from the strain if she tried her attack technique for the third time, but she had countless other ways of subduing him. Drifting towards the ground and snatching up two blade-sized shards of broken reflective glass, she reached where Nikolai was attempting to flee on foot and threw with deadly accuracy.

"No!" the Reichmann screamed as he stumbled to the ground. "The Nebula Spider can't be stuck with a pin and put on display!"

Raven landed on his back, driving the heel of her foot into his neck. All she needed to do was keep him pinned for a fraction of a second. Just as she predicted, Damien came hurtling through the air, his eyes locked on her. With a whispered "Kraur Golnauk," she tensed her body and stood firm. The weighty fighter drove them both hard into the rock ground, crushing them into a massive crater. Despite all her efforts and previous training, his concentrated strength still managed to penetrate her defenses. Her body was supposed to become iron, but she felt more like the shattered stone surrounding them. Damien was clutching her throat in a vise grip, blood streaming off of his body and soaking her uniform. Raven was slowly losing the ability to breathe.

Fortunately, she was attacking him the moment his fingers closed around her neck. She struck at multiple points on his arm and body, but flames kept spouting up like weeds wherever she landed a hit. He appeared to be getting stronger with each passing second, which was problematic because she seriously needed to breathe. "Da…mien…" she managed to squeeze out. "Stand… down… Captain's… Or… ders…"

Damien leaned down and let out a boneshaking roar. He shoved her harder into the ground, his razor-sharp fangs dripping saliva and blood onto her face. He opened his mouth as if to bite down and exhaled a stinking blast of hot air. Her vision was beginning to flicker and fade; all she could see were the flames spouting out of his eyes. These were somehow different from the ones coating the rest of his body. These weren't covering any injury, but were simply an indication of his boundless rage. It was as if all of the emotions she didn't feel were pouring out of his furious green eyes.

Finally, he slowly unclenched his fingers and released her neck. She took in a deep and full breath, her bare hands going to her neck to check for damage. She encountered bare skin where his flames had burned off her suit and deep bruises would probably appear, but she would survive. He unexpectedly hauled her to her feet, making sure she was standing steadily. She stared up at him, still regaining her breath. All of a sudden, he broke out in mad laughter, throwing his head back and howling with delight.

Raven didn't need to be reminded of this particular fact again, but this did solidify it. Damien was completely insane.

"Well, well, well," came a deep, bass voice from behind them. "It looks like some people were having fun in here! Care to let one more person join in?"

* * *

And so, it is revealed that all of the Black Glove Pirates are willing to take it to the next level to do what needs to be done


	59. The Aftermath

And now, for the only member of the Sins left conscious, please welcome... the bandit bodyguard from Winter Isle, Cain Alcides!

* * *

Cain was locked in combat with Derrick Madaxe, golden mace forced against green-white battleaxe. They were both enormous men, all of the other combatants around them barely approaching their waists. Their bodies were layers of muscle honed by years of brutal training, training to fight and defeat their opponents. They had both trained with men their own size and they were quite familiar with that particular challenge. They both had their honor on the line and neither would back down.

The bandit dug his rear boot more forcefully into the ground and pushed even harder. His powerful muscles bulged as he pressed the beaten pendulum forward, trying to overcome the pirate in front of him. Most of his cuirass had been torn away, his chainmail had been ripped off and his leather jerkin was in pieces. His bare skin glistened with sweat as he strained against the battleaxe a foot from his face. The time for techniques was over. It was simply strength versus strength, sheer power versus sheer power.

Finally, something gave way. The golden pendulum, not meant to withstand such pressure, buckled and snapped under the strain. Cain felt the makeshift weapon give a fraction of a second before it happened and managed to flip into the air as it did, narrowly avoiding the axe's blade cutting him in two. His helmeted head passed within inches of Madaxe's bandana as he flew above the pirate. Madaxe reacted with alarming speed, bringing the poll around in a devastating backward blow. Cain barely had time to put his armored forearms in front of him in time to block the blow. The butt of the axe struck his crossed arms and sent him spinning crazily through the air. He managed to land in an awkward roll, skidding to his feet facing his opponent.

Madaxe was already charging forward, his battleaxe ready for a downward slice. From the throbbing in his right forearm, Cain wouldn't be able to take another blow like that without breaking a bone. He darted forward, snatching up the broken pendulum shaft as he ran. The pirate tried to push his axe down before Cain reached him, but the bandit was ready for it. He raised his left arm and let the blade slide along his white armor, deflecting it off to the side. Torquing his body, he thrust his right arm forward, driving the broken shaft into the pirate's unprotected shoulder.

He was rewarded with a shout of pain from his adversary, who fell back clutching his shoulder. Cain continued his assault, smashing the thick rod into Madaxe's fingers and forcing him to drop his axe. It was a measure of the pirate's weariness that he didn't move in time to avoid the blow to the side of the head. In the end, Cain's endurance built from countless hours of moving through dense mountain forest won him the battle.

Madaxe fell to the side with a dazed look on his face. He stared up at the bandit in wonder, still clutching his wounded shoulder. "You and I have been doing this dance for many years," he mumbled loudly. "Bandits and pirates at each other's throats for the littlest things. In this case, Winter Isle won out."

Cain leveled the rod at the center of the other man's forehead, ready to deliver the final strike. "Know that I will not kill you, that I will let you live so that you can regain your lost honor."

The pirate gave a horase laugh, closing his eyes peacefully. "Honor. Didn't think you'd have that against a pirate."

"Pirates and bandits are not so dissimilar as you might think," Cain told him. "I have but one request."

"Aye? And what might that be?"

"You will leave the Black Glove Pirates alone," Cain said firmly. "You will not continue to pursue them."

Another hoarse laugh. "I can do that. As far as I saw, the woman who killed my brother is already dead." He nodded slowly. "And I have one request as well."

"I'll hear it," Cain granted.

Madaxe lifted his injured arm and pointed at the battleaxe lying on the floor. "Can you wield Basilikos now? I know you bandits don't like having weapons, but perhaps you could make an exception just this once. You have defeated me fairly and honestly. I think my father would not begrudge me losing it in such a manner." His face settled into a wry grin. "Not that I think I could face him now."

"I believe your father would be proud. If I meet him, I will present Basilikos to him." Cain thrust forward, knocking the pirate out in one clean blow. As Madaxe slumped backward, the bandit straightened up and dropped the golden rod. "You were a worthy adversary, Derrick Madaxe. I am honored to have fought you."

With his fight concluded, Cain took a good look around. The chaos around him was mostly gone, a few valiant combatants still struggling against each other, but otherwise the battle was over. Corpses and maimed bodies were strewn across the floor, a few draped over the railings above him or leaning against bookshelves. Volumes were scattered everywhere, loose pages decorating the ground like fallen leaves. Discarded weapons were as numerous as the bodies, some stuck in groaning men and others simply lying about. But none of that mattered. The battle was over.

His eyes cast about for the fighter he knew would be somewhere around here. Sure enough, he saw Lyn's fallen body some distance away near the broken window. Two women were still locked in combat, one dressed all in black, one dressed all in green. The one in black seemed to be losing, but Cain remembered seeing her out of the corner of his eye. She had been the one who rescued Lyn from the Reichmanns and she needed his help. He strode over, snatching Basilikos up as he went. The battleaxe was quite large, perfectly suited for a man just a bit bigger than he was. He would be able to weild it fairly well, but he would need to grow a bit before he would be perfectly suited for it. He wouldn't use it all the time, he had his ability to make weapons out of his surroundings after all, but he would honor Madaxe's request.

Casually, he turned his body and swung the battleaxe like a golf club. The poll struck the green-haired woman, sending her flying out of the window. He watched to make sure she landed in the mansion, then turned to the black-haired woman, only to find she wasn't there. Without acknowledging the help he had given, she had rushed over to Lyn's body and was shaking her vigorously. He was surprised by this woman's actions and quickly went over to check on the fallen first mate.

"Excuse me," he rumbled, kneeling down in an effort to appear less intimidating. "Would you mind telling me what your relationship with Lust is?"

The black-clothed woman looked up at him, amusement evident on her face. "Is that the nickname she chose? Why does that not surprise me in the least? She went topfree when she was fighting me and she didn't even care."

Cain bristled at this and prepared to launch her out of the window as well. "You fought her?"

"Long time ago," the woman said. "She saved my life and for that, I am in her debt." She looked back down at Lyn's unconscious form, prompting the bandit to do the same. The first mate looked relatively unhurt, probably thanks to her chainmail. Unlike Cain, who was used to wearing the protective metal rings, she had chosen to wear nothing underneath. The black-clad woman took off her shirt and laid it over the first mate to protect her modesty. Cain gently turned aside the unconscious woman's head with a finger, looking at the bruise on her milky white skin.

"I'm Sabrina," the black-haired woman said suddenly. "You just took out my newest captain."

"Do you wish to fight me for defeating him?" he asked her.

The woman shook her head. "Right now, I just want to see that Lyn's all right. Who knows what I'll do afterwards."

Cain stared down at her, still wondering how much he could safely explain. "I am Cain," he informed her at last. "My nickname was Gluttony. We were on the same team for this assault."

"Oh?" Sabrina looked interested now. "And who else was on the team? I must admit I'm not familiar with the group of names you chose."

"I'm not sure I trust you enough to reveal my other teammates," he rumbled.

The black-clad woman rolled her eyes. "Fine, then I'll just ask about the ones I know about. What was her captain called?"

Cain saw no harm in divulging this information. "Pride."

Sabrina gave a short laugh. "That fits her like a glove. What about that guy with the dreadlocks? The pyro? I didn't see him around here. Where is he?"

"Wrath," the bandit said. "He and another were fighting Nikolai Reichmann."

Sabrina's face fell at this. "Then I don't know if he's still alive either. Nikolai was truly a good fighter." She glanced down at Lyn. "She's gonna be heartbroken if he's gone too. Was he fighting with the musician?"

Cain shook his head. "Sloth was fighting Excel."

"Wow. You guys sure picked some tough opponents. What about the short woman in black?"

This took the bodyguard by surprise. Cassandra had been meticulous about keeping the doctor's presence a secret even from Envy and Avarice. That this woman knew about Raven changed the situation completely. "Sin was fighting with Wrath."

"Then maybe they overcame Nikolai after all," Sabrina murmured. "They didn't seem to get along too well, but they're both excellent fighters. Wrath even took out my captain before that one." She pointed over to Madaxe's limp form. "Well, Cassandra actually delivered the final blow, but Wrath did all the fighting. What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to gather the rest of the team," Cain responded. "I'll need to take Lyn now."

Sabrina stood up, holding the first mate in a bridal position. "I'm coming with you. I want to see her safe. Not that you won't get her safe, but I want to see that she's okay."

The bandit nodded and looked about to see what he needed to get. His thick plates of armor lay scattered about and he didn't feel like having to forge some new ones. Sighing, he began gathering the white pieces of metal, putting them in a pile in the middle of the room. Shredding what remained of his jerkin, he made a few bands of cloth and tied his armor pieces in one bundle. He hefted the battleaxe Basilikos and put it on the pile so he wouldn't forget it. After scanning the room to see what else he had forgotten, his eyes fell upon a familiar-looking rifle. It was Cassandra's weapon, discarded at some point during her fatal fight. He stumped over and picked up the rifle, which looked like a toy in his large hands. Tucking it into his pants pocket, he hoisted the battleaxe and armor onto one shoulder and glanced about for Sabrina.

He found the woman staring down at a beautiful sword lying on the ground. He slowly lumbered over, wondering what the weapon meant to the pirate. As if reading his mind, she began to speak. "Lyn used this. When this was in her hands, she was hard as steel and as unforgiving. I hate seeing her like that, but she might need it in the future."

Cain's gaze lingered on a white cowboy hat he assumed was Cassandra's. Pinching it between two fingers, he lifted it up and gently rested it on the unconscious first mate's head. "I spent a fair amount of time with Lyn and I agree that she should never change. But like it or not, she is captain of the Black Glove Pirates now, and she'll need to be ready to face the responsibilities that entails."

Sabrina nodded sadly and picked up the glittering sword. She walked over to a nearby armored corpse that Cain recognized as the rebel leader's right hand man, Michael, and wrenched the scabbard away from his side. She sheathed the large sword and handed it up to Cain along with Lyn's rapier and loop of beads. "All set?" she asked wearily.

The bandit nodded and extended his hand downwards. Sabrina stared at him for a moment, then climbed onto the offered appendage and sat down comfortable. Tucking the pair of women against his chest, Cain took a few steps forward and leapt out of the broken clocktower window. The midday air felt good against his sweaty skin, but the gravity of the day's events robbed him of even that simple pleasure. He took the opportunity to look over the city before him. The fight was still raging in the distant streets, which saddened him even more. Countless lives were being lost today without any good reason at all.

He landed as lightly as he could on the glass-strewn marble floor, but Sabrina and Lyn still nearly fell off of his protective arm. He analyzed the room in quick glances, trying to see everything at once. The floor was absolutely covered in sharp, glittering shards, all gleaming brightly in the sunlight. He was thankful for the thick soles of his boots and didn't envy anyone who would walk barefoot on this ground. There were bodies clustered at the far end of the room, most mutilated beyond recognition. Obviously, some great battle had been fought here that equaled the fight that had raged inside the clocktower.

What drew Cain's attention was the figure standing not too far from him. A man with skin as dark as molasses and clothes as white as milk had his back to them, concentrating on something in front of him. He turned his head slightly to peer at the newcomers and a small smile spread across his lips. "My brother and sister, I see that you have survived this little skirmish. I see you wield Basilikos. Have you taken the Shichibukai's axe and become the new captain of his West Blue crew?"

Puzzled by this, Cain opened his mouth to disagree, but Sabrina beat him to it. "He is, Mister Panther. My previous captain has stepped down and recognized this man as his successor."

"I see," the Albino Panther boomed. "In that case, I congratulate you. If I recall correctly, I believe these two have some importance to you?"

He lifted his foot up and stood slightly off to the side. Cain's heart plummeted as he recognized Damien's bloody and beaten body, the berserker feebly attempting to rise. Cain never would have expected Damien to do anything feebly, yet it was obvious he was at the end of his seemingly unlimited endurance. The bandit stumped over to the downed pirate, staring down as calmly as he could.

"He's the one who killed Darren Madaxe," Sabrina said to nobody in particular. "Him and his captain both."

"I assume that is the woman who accompanied General Taylor to his death?" the Shichibukai asked.

Cain glanced up sharply at him. "Tolstoy Reichmann. She sacrificed herself to kill Tolstoy Reichmann."

"So the truth has come out," the Albino Panther murmured. "No matter. The more pressing question is, what are you going to do with these two?"

"Two?" Cain looked in surprise as the white-clad man easily kicked Damien a few paces away. He was even more surprised to see Raven's form lying where the navigator had been, lying unconscious on the ground.

"He was protecting her," the Albino Panther informed him.

Cain coughed in astonishment. "Impossible. They never got along. He has almost killed her several times."

"Nevertheless, he did his best to make sure she wasn't hurt. Oh, they put up a fight, make no mistake. They ruined a good hat and tie." Cain saw that his tie was indeed sliced in half and his top hat was in flames some distance away. "But I won't be too upset if you want to take care of them, one Shichibukai to the subordinate of another."

"I would like that," Cain rumbled. "They need to pay for that they did."

The Albino Panther nodded and turned away. "I will go see to the Reichmanns. You take care of these pirates."

With that, the white-clad man leapt onto the ceiling and touched down briefly before jumping to the clocktower. Cain exhaled a breath of relief at the Shichibukai's departure, unsure of how long he could continue his charade. He looked down once more to find that Damien had pulled himself over to Raven, his blood-soaked skin glistening in the sunlight. Flickers of fire danced across his skin in thin lines, indicating that Damien still wasn't ready to give up. Cain frowned in surprise as he agonizingly pushed himself into a crawling position, his blood-covered eyes aimed in their general direction. He bared his teeth in an animalistic snarl as he tried to cover the doctor once more.

"How is he still alive?" Sabrina whispered. "How can his body withstand such punishment?"

Cain gave a dry laugh. "He is going to be the best fighter in the world, aren't you Damien? We need to get you some help. As indestructible as you think you are, you are going to die if you don't get those wounds tended to."

Damien's growl grew as he turned to face Sabrina. The black-clad woman took a hesitant step backwards, obviously uncomfortable being the focus of the berserker's attention. This puzzled Cain, for he didn't think Damien would perceive Sabrina as a real threat. "What's wrong, Damien?"

The blinded navigator swiveled in his general direction, flames subsiding slightly from mutilated chocolate skin. "Cap'n's… Orders…"

The bandit's eyes widened as he realized why Damien hadn't fallen down yet. The pirate was so focused on following his captain's final command that the idea of lying down didn't even pass through his mind. A pang of shame at misunderstanding Damien's true nature shot through Cain's chest and he gave a sad nod. "Sabrina, put Lyn down and back away slowly."

"But-" the black-haired woman protested.

"Just do it," Cain murmured.

Grudgingly, Sabrina relinquished her hold on the unconscious first mate and set her down as gently as possible. She took a few steps backward and her hand went to the sword at her side as Damien began crawling. When he reached Lyn's limp form, he snaked his arm beneath her body and lifted her enough off the ground so she wouldn't be dragged along the glassy floor. Cain dimly registered that he was using his left arm and was even more surprised to see the unmistakable signs of burning crisscrossing the appendage. He realized that flames occasionally pulsed through the grooves. Perhaps the sadist wasn't completely immune to his own fires after all.

Once Damien finished working his way over to Raven's form, he set the woman on his body down and twisted to look at Cain once more. A bloody grin flashed across his face as he slumped to the floor. Cain and Sabrina waited for a moment before moving, unsure of how to proceed. The flames on Damien's body finally died completely, withdrawing along the sinuous path they had carved.

"Is it okay?" Sabrina asked tentatively. "Can we get them out of here now?"

Instead of responding, Cain took a step forward and bent over the three pirates. Lyn could have been sleeping peacefully, her body mercifully devoid of serious injuries. Damien was the polar opposite, life-threatening wounds covering so much of his body it was a wonder he hadn't fallen unconscious earlier. Raven was somewhere in between, her arms leaking black blood in some places, gashes in her suit revealing other damage she had sustained.

"We need to get them some help," Sabrina noted. "If the dreadlocked one doesn't get healed soon, he's going to die. That'll crush Lyn's heart beyond repair."

Nodding, Cain scooped Damien and Raven up, letting Sabrina gather Lyn back into her arms. To his displeasure, holding both of them proved to be beyond his capability and the heavy navigator slipped from his grip. Before Damien could hit the floor, however, a rush of blue came between him and the floor, materializing into the form of a thoroughly beaten Deus. "Thought you'd need some help," the swordsman said through a bloody half-grin. "Can't do more than carry him, though."

"Get onto my shoulder." As he expected, Sabrina had enough strength to propel herself onto his outstretched arm and rebound onto his shoulder. Deus simply hopped into the air, landing on the bundle of armor attatched to the bandit's new battleaxke. Waiting until the black-clad woman gripped onto Basilikos' haft for support, he leapt into the air and landed on the iron support that used to hold thick glass panes. He turned towards the entrance of the mansion, knowing that Alexander and Avarice couldn't have traveled too far away from where Excel had come out of the ground.

Three bounds later, he arrived at the edge of another metal grid devoid of their customary windows. His eyes scanned the floor far below him, analyzing the scars in the battlefield. Large patches of liquefied marble were probably Excel's doing while the flawless pits in the floor were either from the elementalist or the alchemist. Only the latter could be seen, lying by one of the two large holes bored into the floor. Hopping off the roof and landing on the floor, he looked about for Avarice, concern flooding through his chest.

"Who do you ssssseek?" The sibilant murmur caused him to spin around, trying to find the source of the voice. What he had assumed to be a pile of broken glass was actually the mildly recognizable form of the hybrid Naga. The Snake Man reared up off the ground, the glass shards in his black glistening red with blood.

"Sloth and Avarice," Cain responded. "I have the rest of them."

Naga's flat eyes roved over the gathering band of battered rebels. "I would like to ssssssee Ssssssloth to ssssssafety."

Sabrina gave a dry laugh. "Join the club. These pirates are amazing, aren't they? She really did manage to gather an incredible crew."

"That sssssshe did." Regaining his legs, Naga hoisted the portly alchemist over his shoulder, careful not to impale his charge on his dorsal shards. "The traitor Avarissssss is down there."

"Traitor?" Cain asked. "What do you mean?"

"He ssssswitched sssssidess when Pride sssssslew General Taylor and attacked ussss both," Naga snarled. "He hass no loyalty."

Cain did his best to keep his face impassive. He wasn't terribly surprised to hear that Avarice chosen to devote himself to payment instead of an ideal, but he had hoped the hooded man hadn't done so. "Well, Lust, Wrath, Sin and Sloth all need medical attention. Anybody know where we should go from here?"

"Down." They all turned to Deus, who arranged Damien more comfortably on his shoulder. "Well, nobody is using Taylor's base any more. It stands to reason that it's unattended now. We can hire a few gravekeepers to hide our presence and keep nosy Reichmanns away. It's not a great plan, because we still need doctors, but it's a start."

"Then we need her to wake up." Sabrina pointed at the petite pirate nestled in the crook of Cain's arm. "She's a doctor, right? She destroyed Igor and I think that match was doctor on doctor."

"Yes, she is a magnificent doctor," Cain admitted. "But that's assuming she wakes up. You saw who she went up against. Nikolai Reichmann and the Albino Panther, one rumored to be impossible to beat and the other one of the Royal Shichibukai!"

Deus chuckled lightly. "Don't forget about Tango, one of the higher Otan mercenaries. They had to break open his battlesuit and that was no mean feat. She and Damien went through hell just now. They're not going to rise for a while."

"She's the best chance we've got," the enormous bandit said. "Especially since Damien is going to join his captain in the afterlife in a matter of minutes. Is there anybody else who could tend to him in the meantime?"

"There are medicssss waiting underground," Naga cut in. "Sssssome who did not join in the fighting. I do not know of… Ssssin'sss sssskill, but they ssssshould be able to keep him alive. Sssssloth has ssssssusssstained sssssome injuriesss, yet I sssssusssspect he isss merely exssssshausssted. Their heartsssss are what need to truly be mended."

They all fell silent at this. The four fighters knew the truth of this statement, each of them grasping the importance of the fallen pirate. "Pride… was a great woman," Cain muttered at last. "She was fierce, intelligent and a magnificent fighter. But more importantly, she was their Captain. She was the head of a family not related by blood whose bonds were filled with devotion and love. Her loss will take a great toll on all of them. It's still unbelievable that she took down Tolstoy Reichmann, a man even Wrath would have some trouble dealing with."

"Pride was ruthlessssss and cunning," Naga sissed. "Sssssshe gave me information on Avarissss, her own teammate, out of consssssern for Sssssloth. Ssssshe didn't trusssst Avarissss and knew sssshe wouldn't be able to keep an eye on him. Sssshe requested that I keep him by my ssssside and protect Ssssloth asss bessst I can. Asss it turnsss out, Ssssloth held hisss own. He actually helped me out."

"I'd really like to have met Pride under different circumstances," Deus said slowly. "She was wholly focused on her duties, including protecting her crewmembers. I wish I could have seen her just… relaxing. Having a good time. Enjoying life with her crew. She seemed like a good person."

Sabrina gave a sad smile. "I knew her before any of you. She was a tough bitch all right, unfazed by the very real threats made by the son of a Shichibukai. She got through by the skin of her teeth, but she escaped. She could have done anything she wanted. Instead, she sacrificed herself to rid the world of a deceitful tyrant. We all need to be by their side, at least for the next few days. I know Lyn's going to need help and the others will probably need it as well. What do you say?"

Naga nodded and Deus shrugged his agreement. Only Cain remained silent, torn between two duties. The three shorter people stared up at him expectantly, leaving him no choice. "Very well," he sighed. "I will do what I can. Now, I believe you said Avarice was at the bottom of this hole?"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Zan watched in surprise as the glittering gold retreated from the ground, revealing the purple-cloaked form of a man. He walked forward and picked the rich man up. He was about to heave the body onto his nearly full cart when he realized the man was still breathing. The gravekeeper started and dropped the man, staring at him in shock. It wasn't often that he found living people in the underworld and each time it was a surprise. He slumped against his cart, wondering what he was to do now.

All of a sudden, it seemed like the world was crumbling around him. Shapes thudded to the ground all around him, sending his heartbeat racing. The lantern hanging off his cart died to a tiny flame as a fierce wind suddenly descended upon him. If only he were as brave as old Ann, who didn't even flinch when a pocket of gas caught the flame in her lamp and set her corpse-laden cart on fire. He gulped loudly and tried his best not to show his fear. At least he wasn't running like a frightened rabbit. He had seen more than one of his comrades do that when startled. Unsightly behavior, that.

"You there," a deep voice boomed from high above him. "Gravekeeper. Do not touch that man."

"I wasn't going to," Zan said indignantly. His slighted gravekeeper honor overcame his fear as he stood up straight and raised his chin. "This one's not dead. I wouldn't dream of taking him away."

"Good." A massive hand came out of the darkness and snatched up the richly-clad man. "Now, can you escort us to a rebel base located somewhere nearby? We will pay you, of course."

Well, that was unexpected. Here he was, doing his duty, when he was suddenly offered money in exchange for a simple guidance. That was just fine with him; there was a corpse disposal unit not far from General Taylor's base. "Follow me. I will see you there."

* * *

It's good to see that the Black Glove Pirates have allies in times of need. Tune in next time to see how they deal with the day's events.


	60. Dealing with the Aftershocks

And now, back to the Black Glove Pirates.

* * *

Lyn groggily awoke to the faint sound of the sea. Her head ached something fierce and she gingerly reached up to touch it. She winced as her fingertips brushed the familiar feeling of cloth, her hair falling over the bandage and mostly covering it up. She inhaled the scent of salt mixed in with the sterility of a medical room. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at the ceiling of the _Howling Knave_'s sickbay. She hesitatingly sat up, trying to remember everything that had happened to her.

Her electric blue eyes filled with tears as she remembered the horrifying fall Captain had taken. She was about to start crying in earnest when Raven appeared by her side. "It is good to see you have woken at last," the doctor droned. "Cassandra was beginning to worry that you would never get up."

"C-Captain's worried?" Lyn asked hesitatingly, her eyes still moist. "She's… alive?"

"Of course," Raven replied flatly. "She eliminated Tolstoy Reichmann before he had time to cause any more chaos. She is with Damien on the helm."

Lyn was on her feet before the former assassin was done speaking. She sprinted for the staircase, only to have Raven materialize in front her. "You are not completely recovered. Remain in bed."

"No!" the first mate shouted. "Get out of my way, Raven! I want to see Captain and I want to see her now!"

Raven didn't budge. "I will send everyone down to see you if you remain in bed."

Satisfied with this compromise, Lyn scrambled back into her bed. She fluffed up her pillows as Raven disappeared, making herself comfortable. She snuggled in deeper and rested her hands on her lap, waiting as patiently as she could. After a few seconds, she began to grow restless and wondered where Raven was. Common sense told her that while the black-clad woman could move faster than she could see, her other nakama could not, yet she ignored common sense. She wanted to see everybody and she wanted to see them now!

Alexander was the first one to descend into the medical ward. His hands were wrapped in white cloth, but otherwise he looked fine. His black suit was immaculate as usual and his bespectacled eyes shone with happiness. "Lyn! You're finally awake!" He rushed to her side and extended his hand. "It's good to see you're alive. You took a nasty blow to the head and after you didn't wake up after a day, we all got so worried. You gave us all quite a scare."

Lyn grinned and pressed her face into his hand, feeling the soft bandages. "I had the most miserable dream, Alex."

"Alexander," he corrected softly.

The onetime nun laughed gaily as she rubbed her face against his palm. "Alex_ander_, I had the most miserable dream. See, Captain died and you died and Raven died and Damien died. You're all not allowed to die! We all have to see the ends of the world together! Captain needs to be Pirate Queen, defended by the best fighter in the world, accompanied by the most famous musician in the world!"

"We ain' dead, 'arlot," Damien chuckled, stumping into the white room. "We can' be killed, didncha know?"

Unsurprisingly, the navigator was wrapped head to toe in bandages. One strip of cloth even slanted over his right eye, giving him a cyclopean appearance. His dreadlocks stuck out of the top in a mop-like manner, dangling downwards in front of his face. He bared his metal teeth in a wolf-like smile and sat down beside the resting artist, allowing her to throw an arm around his powerful form. "Took ya long enough."

"It is good to see you awake again." Lyn's heart sped up as she heard the caring voice of her beloved captain. Ignoring Raven's orders, she bounded out of bed and shot over to embrace Captain's lithe body. She knocked the other woman over, hugging her as hard as she could. Captain gave a light laugh as she hugged back, her grip sure and strong. "What's all this, then?"

"I dreamt you were dead," Lyn whispered in her ear. "I dreamt that everyone was dead and that you all left me alone."

"We would never do that," Captain whispered back. "We would never leave you alone."

Lyn squeezed harder for a moment, then reluctantly relinquished her grip. It wouldn't do to linger on unpleasant thoughts that weren't even real. Her radiant smile spread across her face as she got to her feet, staring at all her nakama with pleasure. "I love you all!" she announced.

"We all love you too," Captain responded.

The first mate brushed her hair out of her face as she turned to greet the returning doctor. "Sorry I got out of bed, Raven. I'll get right back in-"

She fell silent as she felt something trickle across her face. She wiped her forearm across her head and stared at it in surprise. Her pale arm was smeared with red blood, which was peculiar. She didn't feel any pain anywhere, which was odd considering her injured head. She saw something that drew her attention, something she hadn't seen before. The palm of her hand was liberally coated in blood, the crimson liquid staining her skin. She rapidly checked her head with her other hand, but aside from what was left over on her forehead, she found no injuries of any kind. Where had this blood come from?

Her shocked gaze fell upon her captain and she let out a startled scream. Captain's carmine shirt was rapidly darkening from the center, dark drops splattering onto the floor. Captain looked down at her chest and a sad smile crept onto her lips. "Ah. I'm sorry, Lyn. We all love you, but I can't stay with you any more. You're going to have to lean on the others now."

"No, no Captain!" Lyn yelled, whirling around in panic. "Raven! You have to do something!"

But the doctor suddenly looked as if she had been run through a wringer. Her skintight suit was wrinkled and torn, her visible skin coated in blood. Her hair fell limply, plastered to her back. Despite her abrupt changes, Raven was as emotionless as ever. "I am skilled in the art of ailing, and ailing and curing are not so different from each other. However, even my skills cannot bring back the dead."

"No!" Lyn screamed, retreating from the doctor. "You can do anything! Alex! Alexander! You're a priest, right? You can talk to spirits, right? Heal her! Tell me she'll be okay!"

The lenses fell out of his glasses and shattered on the floor. He fell against the counter, barely able to hold himself upright. His suit jacket shriveled and fell against the floor, revealing the bandages wrapped around his body. He put a hand against his chest, wheezing heavily in an attempt to take in air. "Remember, Lyn. We can heal her only if she is alive. Without that, we cannot do anything. I can only communicate with good spirits who are attached to this world. Captain passed on peacefully and is beyond my grasp."

Lyn howled in fury and turned to one support she never doubted for a second, one who could do anything. But as her eyes fell upon him, her words died in her throat. Damien was lying on the bed, blood seeping out of his bandages. His emerald eye stared lifelessly ahead and his bandages had come unraveled, revealing his mutilated body. Lyn backed away into the corner, afraid to go near any of her nakama. This couldn't be happening! Damien and Captain were immortal! Raven couldn't be touched! Alexander's state was not unexpected, but he couldn't be supporting letting Captain go! Who were these people? What had happened to her true nakama? Where was everybody? What was going on?

Lyn sat bolt upright, gasping madly for air. Her chest felt tight and she put a hand to it, feeling the tight bandages encircling her body. She pulled madly at strips, trying to free herself of the constricting cloth that prevented her from breathing, but whoever had wrapped them had done it in such a way that only a practiced hand could remove them. Her breath caught in her throat as she realized she couldn't see anything. This was even more terrifying than not being able to breathe properly. She immediately brought her hand to her face and froze as her fingers touched another bandage pressed against her eyes. With trembling hands, she felt the bandage all around her head, forming a cap that covered the top half of her cranium. She ran her fingers on her body, feeling more cloth wrapped around her hands and arms. She was virtually mummified in the constricting bandages, only the lower half of her face exposed to the air.

"Hello?" she whispered, immediately regretting the action. Her voice was hoarse as if she had been screaming for hours and it hurt to say anything at all. Despite this, her terror forced her to keep going. "Is there… anyone?"

"Yes," came a well-known monotone.

Unable to contain her relief, she broke down crying, tears soaking into her bandages. "Raven. So glad…"

"Lyn, lie back down. I have news for you."

Her body still wracked with sobs, she nevertheless did as she was told. She took a few deep, shuddering breaths in an unsuccessful attempt to calm herself. Her fingers clenched onto the fabric she was resting on, gathering it in her fists. She felt that she was on a bed, but couldn't be sure. She gave a nod to indicate she was ready, but received no answer in return. Giving a small hiccup, she asked, "Raven?"

"You are the third to wake up," the doctor droned. "It is nighttime after the attack on the Reichmann's mansion. My insomnia caused me to rise before you and I needed to get to work."

Lyn frowned, tears oozing from her bandages down her face. "No," she said weakly. "You rest."

"There is work to be done. Alexander and Damien were in critical condition. Alexander was swiftly stabilized, but Damien's heart was about to stop. I suspect that the spirits he gathered with him are the only reason his heart kept beating. The spirits might even have simply kept the blood flowing, ignoring his bodily functions. But that is not the news I have for you.

"Lyn, Cassandra is gone."

"No," Lyn protested, her throat throbbing as she tried to speak louder. "No! She can't… be gone, she can't… be! Where are you, Raven?" She reached out in an attempt to find the doctor, but received no reply. Closing her eyes and taking a shaky breath, she willed herself out of her body. As emotional as she was, she was still able to leave if she did it slowly enough. She gradually inched upwards, moving carefully so as not to get sucked back into her corporeal form. When she felt she was ready, she opened her eyes and turned around.

She was staring at herself. She was bandaged just as she had suspected, which prevented her from moving too much. Looking from side to side revealed more of her surroundings. She was in a small medical room, even smaller than the one in the _Howling Knave_. Alexander was lying in the bed beside her, his chest slowly rising and falling as he slept. He too was covered in bandages, though his were still spotted with blood from his wounds. His glasses rested on the table between them, as did another recognizable device.

Lyn drifted closer and whispered as loudly as she could. Her throat didn't hurt in her spirit form, but her voice still came out barely above an exhalation. "Raven?"

"I am here." The Baby Den-Den Mushi spoke without moving its mouth, which confirmed the speaker's identity even more. "Come into the room beside this one. I had to quarantine Damien to preserve the sterility of his environment and yours."

Doing as the doctor instructed, Lyn drifted through the wall next to her bed. If she had been in her body, she would have thrown up. Damien was lying on a metal slab, as naked as the day he was born. Tubes connected his arms, legs and mouth to various apparatus arranged around the room. All of the blood that was being pumped into him seemed to be flowing right back out onto the table. His body was absolutely covered in deep gashes and burns, most of which were either stitched together or covered in some sort of salve.

But what sickened Lyn the most were his chest and left arm. Both of them were cut open, revealing the insides of his body. His organs throbbed as they struggled to keep their owner alive, a mass of gruesome blobs covered with blood. Raven was studiously working on his chest, her arms moving in sure movements. What surprised Lyn in the moment before she turned away was how slow Raven was moving. The artist had seen her perform surgeries and they had been done in a matter of minutes. That it was nighttime and Raven didn't appear anywhere near being finished filled her with dread.

Lyn drifted down in front of the doctor, her torso disappearing into the edge of the table, and breathed, "What's wrong?"

"Damien pushed himself beyond what his body could handle," Raven responded without looking up. "If not for his connection to the spirits, he would have perished. As it is, the spirits seemed to have abandoned him to science and my own skills now."

"Perished?" Lyn inquired.

Raven held up a pair of tweezers and held them up, obviously expecting Lyn to put her hand underneath. After waiting a moment, she let the object go. To the doctor, it must have looked like it was suspended in midair. A pale blue crystal no larger than a grain of sand glittered in the light, tinged with red from where it had been extracted. Lyn turned it over on her palm, surprised at the slight cold emanating from the speck. "Nevermeltice. He inhaled a huge quantity of it and it nearly destroyed his respiratory and circulatory systems. They stuck in his alveoli and froze his capillaries, preventing his blood from being reoxygenated. I need to remove most of them if he is to function again."

"Remove them all," the ghostly first mate ordered. "He's gonna be the best fighter in the world."

"That is one reason this is taking so long," Raven admitted tonelessly. "Fortunately, it is easy to locate where the crystals entrenched themselves. Unfortunately, it is difficult to remove without permanently scarring his lungs. I need to remove them all and wait for Alexander to waken again so we can both heal him."

"Again?"

Raven put aside a bowl of bloody nevermeltice and picked up an empty one. "I had to wake him briefly to open Damien's ribcage. As you know, his bones are composed of extremely dense metal and without transmuting them, accessing his lungs would have been impossible. It was regrettable that Alexander had to be woken, as his body suffers from severe exhaustion. Even the brief moment of consciousness and the relatively small amount of alchemy required of him will probably delay his full return by a day at the least."

"And you?" Lyn whispered. "What have you suffered?"

The black-clad doctor remained silent. "What I endured was of no concern." Indeed, she seemed to be perfectly fine. No bandages were wrapped around her limbs, her skintight suit as black as ever. "What we need to discuss is Cassandra."

A pang of agony shot through Lyn's ghostly chest. Ethereal tears dripped from her face and sparkled out of existence as she began to cry once more. She clutched herself and began rocking back and forth, shaking her head furiously. Captain couldn't be gone. She was as invincible as Raven or Damien. Granted, both of them were injured, one to the brink of death, but that only meant that Captain should be injured too. She couldn't be gone, she just couldn't!

Raven moved a strand of hair from her face. "Since Cassandra is gone, you are the new captain of the Black Glove Pirates."

"No!" Lyn shot over to the doctor, only the knowledge of Raven's importance to keeping Damien alive preventing the artist from hitting her. "I'm not the captain! Captain is the captain! I'm the first mate!"

"You are the captain," Raven said firmly and tonelessly. "You cannot get around this fact. As Cassandra cannot perform her duties, the first mate becomes the captain. We are still a pirate crew, Lyn. We need a captain and you are the best candidate. Not only are you first mate, but you possess all the qualities of a fine pirate captain. You care about the crew, able to give orders and expect them to be followed-"

"Captain was all of those things! I can't take her place! Besides, Damien and Alexander won't listen to me! They only follow Captain!"

Raven shook her head. "Alexander knows the proper functions of a pirate crew. Damien does not listen to anything but Captain's Orders. While I cannot be sure he will accept you as captain, he may follow those if nothing else."

"It doesn't matter!" Lyn howled quietly. "Captain isn't Queen of the Pirates, yet! We can't go on without her! I want her back now! It isn't fair!"

"Life is not fair," Raven reasoned. "Cassandra was as important to me as she was to you. I feel-"

"No, she wasn't!" the first mate shouted. "You don't feel anything!"

The moment the words left her mouth, she wanted to take them back. Raven froze, her hands suspended above Damien's quivering organs. Lyn's grief seemed boundless, but Raven was one of her nakama. The doctor was as important to her as any of the other Black Glove Pirates. After a long silence, Raven finally looked up, staring right into Lyn's eyes. "Do not presume to know how much I owe her. It is true that I do not feel as normal people do, but that does not mean I am completely devoid of emotion. For the first time since she spared my life, I felt something. Can you imagine what it is like to not feel anything, then all of a sudden feel the urge to join Damien, a man who I believe is as dangerous to his comrades as he is to his enemies, in his execution of the enemy? It is like stepping into boiling water after standing inside a cool room."

Lyn felt absolutely awful. She had vowed never to judge her nakama, yet she had insulted her remaining female crewmate along with misunderstanding her feelings. She floated backwards and hid behind the other side of the table. From this angle, Damien looked almost normal. At least, he looked like he normally did when returning from battle. She reached up and cupped his face, resting her head on his shoulder.

She instantly jerked backwards, a feeling of pain shooting through her palm and cheek. It felt like she had tried to touch a bonfire and had gotten seared in the process. Much to her surprise, Damien gave a mighty groan, his organs shaking more violently than before. Blood began seeping more quickly out of his wounds and his brow knitted with agony. Raven's hands were suddenly a blur as the petite doctor tried to fix everything at once.

"Whatever you did, do not do it again," she droned as her limbs flickered back into view.

Now even Lyn's touch hurt her nakama? Unable to take any more, the first mate broke down into tears and fled back to her body. If these were her first minutes as acting-captain – the only actual captain was Captain herself – she was doing a wretched job. She curled up into a fetal position and sobbed quietly to herself. This had just been an absolutely, abysmally, dreadfully, horrible day. Captain was missing, Damien was teetering between life and death, Alexander wouldn't wake, Raven was working overtime to keep them all alive and Lyn was only making everything worse. She just wanted to fall asleep and leave everything behind.

When she felt someone's hand on her shoulder, she realized she had gotten her wish. She stretched herself up groggily, reaching up to rub her aching eyes. Remembering the previous events brought a new wave of tears and, surprisingly, a comforting hug. She blindly returned the embrace, knowing that whoever was offering their shoulder at this time was a friend she could depend on. She smelled the faint scent of lavender and burrowed further into the junction between her friend's shoulder and neck, feeling desperate for help in this troublesome time.

Gently, the other person began lifting away the bandages covering Lyn's eyes. The first mate's hands shot up, preventing them from going any further. "Are you allowed to do that?" She noted her voice was sounding much better than before, though it was still choked with emotion.

She heard a throaty chuckle and felt someone softly moving her hands. "It's okay. Raven told me these were only so you wouldn't be overwhelmed by the light. You should have had sufficient rest by now to be able to deal with it."

Lyn nodded and let her friend remove the cloth from her face. Her pupils contracted instantly as the light in the white room nearly blinded her. She blinked several times and found herself staring into Sabrina's kind face, her black-painted lips drawn in a small smile. Relief flooded through the artist's body and she threw herself forward once more, holding the other pirate close. Sabrina returned the hug, then gently pushed Lyn away.

"But why?" Lyn asked. "Why are you always saving me?"

Sabrina's smile widened. "Because you're the first and only person in my life to show me any mercy or compassion. Even my grandmother wasn't as caring as you were. I had a good talk with Raven and came to understand some things. How I feel about you, she said, is similar to what all of her pirates felt towards her."

Somehow, the omission of Captain's name or title made the ache in Lyn's heart slightly easier to deal with. "I dunno how you feel, but we all loved her. She was like the big sister that made sure we didn't get into too much trouble."

"Not that she ever succeeded with you."

Lyn practically shoved Sabrina over and gazed with pure delight at the man calmly eating his meal on the other bed. Throwing aside her covers, she launched herself at Alexander with a leap that made all of her sore muscles protest angrily, but she paid them no heed. The musician shouted in alarm as she knocked over his tray of food and wrapped her arms around his neck instead. "You're alive!" she yelled exuberantly, pressing his head to her chest. "You're alive!"

"Lyn, get… off… me!" Unfortunately for him, the first mate was stronger than he was. Lyn eventually eased her grip and let him worm himself into a more comfortable position. Haughtily, he adjusted his glasses and glared at her in mock anger. "And for the record, I was never dying." Lyn raised her eyebrows disbelievingly, causing him to shrug his shoulders. "Okay, so I was dying. But not any more. I was just eating after I helped Raven finish up with Damien's chest. It was tricky reattaching his ribs so they wouldn't get broken off easily, but I think we pulled it off."

"Damien's alive too?" Lyn sat bolt upright and would have lunged for the door had Alexander not used all of his might to hold her back.

"Alive does not mean well," he informed her as she settled back down. "She's still operating on his arm and he won't be awake for some time now. She says that-"

"Wait, his arm?" Lyn interrupted. "Does that mean he gets to use his arm again?"

Alexander shrugged once more. "That's what the goal is. But nothing's sure until he wakes up. There's no telling what the damage will do to his body. He might even be crippled again."

"No," the first mate said stubbornly. "He's gonna be the best fighter in the world. He can't do that if he's handicapped."

A sad light crept into Alexander's eyes. "Lyn… I have as much faith as you do that he'll be the best. But we have to face the reality of the situation. Damien nearly died yesterday. I know that doesn't seem like much, but he's never been this close to death before. There were times in there when I was certain he was going to become one of the spirits I channel. It's only a combination of luck and determination on his part that he's still breathing.

"But another reality is that… you are the captain of the Black Glove Pirates."

Lyn pushed herself away from him, an angry light in her eyes. "What is with you all? Captain is the only captain of the Black Glove Pirates. She's just missing for a bit. She'll be back. I know she will."

"Lyn…" Alexander trailed off uncertainly. "She's not coming back. That's something-"

He was cut off as the first mate punched him in the face, forcing him back into his pillows. Lyn was on her feet, her cyan eyes filled with tears and anger. "Shut up! She can't have abandoned us. She is going to be Pirate Queen and nothing is going to change that!"

"Lyn, calm down!" Sabrina shouted. "You're getting out of control again."

"None of you understand! You're all blind!" The artist fled from the room, sobbing uncontrollably. She slammed the door behind her and locked it, keeping the two occupants from chasing her. She began wandering the labyrinthine hallways aimlessly, simply crying profusely. She ignored the looks she received from the few remaining rebels and continued to walk, no target in mind. She only wanted to find someone who could understand her. Damien probably could. She knew his devotion ran as deep as any of the other nakama, for all his crazy actions. But he was under Raven's watch and she refused to go back to them.

What she needed was to feel as controlled as she had during the battle. But no matter how she tried, she could not switch her mindset over. She hated feeling so miserable. She wanted the comfort that only her nakama could provide, but they weren't helping her in this matter. She wanted Captain back. She could always understand Lyn's problems and always had a solution. Just the thought of her elicited a peculiar feeling from Lyn's chest. The artist's heart felt like it had been seized by some ghost and was being squeezed tightly. Putting a hand to her breast, Lyn slumped against a wall and slid to the floor. Falling to her side, she curled her knees up to her chest and lay there, weeping softly. All she wanted was Captain back.

She had no concept of the passage of time. She could have been lying there for minutes or days for all she knew. She cried herself to sleep once or twice, but she had a feeling her rests were brief. Eventually, she picked herself off the floor and began ambling down the corridor once more. She still had no idea where she was going, but she wanted to keep moving. Maybe she would eventually find Captain this way. Captain couldn't be dead. Captain was only missing for a while.

She found herself wandering into the dining hall and her eyes were drawn to a crowd gathered in the middle of the room. She silently glided forward, weaving subconsciously through the mob. The people were packed more tightly together as she approached the center, but mumbled words and a hand to the shoulder were enough to give her passage. She was eventually ejected into a clearing, where two of the tables had been separated from the rest. Had she been feeling better, she would have felt shock to see two lifeless forms lying on the wooden boards. As it was, she only felt curiosity for the identities of the two bodies.

Inching farther away from the edge of the crowd, she nodded slowly as she recognized the two slain fighters. The monk's robe around Sariputta's form was unmistakable, as was Michael's glittering armor. The former's hands were clutching a thick tome of religion, the latter's resting on the pommel of a greatsword. A feeling of peace spread through her body as she recognized the weapon and her fingers involuntarily went to the grip. A startled gasp arose from the onlookers as she lifted the sword, letting it catch the light of the surrounding lamps.

"What do you think you're doing?" a thick-necked woman asked angrily.

"Hush now," came another voice. "That's Lust, that is. I saw Michael give her his sword with my own two eyes, I did. That's hers now. The black-haired one just said we could have it for a while. What are you planning to do with it?"

Lyn turned to face them all, her eyes cold and flat. "Where is General Taylor?"

"We don't know," the woman responded, having overcome her initial outrage. "Once we do, we'll give him a good funeral to send him off."

The first mate opened her mouth to protest, but decided against it. It would do no good to disillusion these people, who were mourning the loss of a man they hardly knew. So long as they did not think Captain had killed him, they could live with their mistaken belief. "I am companion of Pride," she said loudly, trying to ignore the fist around her heart again. "Pride is the one who slew Tolstoy Reichmann. After the funeral of General Taylor, I will give one final speech to you all."

"And what gives you that authority?" a person called from the back.

"I am not forcing any of you," she told them. "If you wish to hear, stay. If not, do not feel obliged to remain."

She started off through the crowd, which parted easily for her. The greatsword clenched in her fist as she departed, silently giving her the strength to deal with her raging emotions. She vaguely remembered where the sparring rooms were and figured there might be something to test her new weapon against. She had to do something to distract herself and she couldn't depend on her nakama for this. They too were entitled to their mistaken belief, but she would not support them. Captain was still alive. She was still captain of the Black Glove Pirates. Nothing in the world would ever change that.

* * *

I truly didn't want to put Lyn through this, but any other reaction wouldn't make much sense.


	61. Facing Reality

Time to see how the Black Glove Pirates deal with their new acting-captain.

* * *

"Lyn, you've got to stop this," Alexander stated. "You need to talk to us."

The onetime nun strode down the hallway, resolutely ignoring him. Her greatsword was in her hand, bleeding strength into her body. She had only dealt with her nakama enough to ensure that they were doing well. It had been days since she had woken, and she had not returned to her hospital room. She had managed to evade Sabrina and Alexander when they had come looking for her, but she hadn't stood a chance once they recruited Raven to help them. Since then, one or the other was following her at all times. At the moment, both were trailing behind her. As long as they didn't realize that Captain could still come back, her duties to them were as first mate and no more.

"Lyn," he repeated sharply. "You are my captain."

She spun around to slap him, but he seized her wrist. The first and second time, she had caught him off guard, but he had been prepared for it since then. "Acting-captain, if you wish, but you're still the one in charge. With the captain dead-"

"She's not dead," she snapped. "She's just missing."

"With the captain dead, incapacitated or missing," he replied just as heatedly. "The second-in-command takes his or her place. On a ship, this responsibility falls to the first mate. You are the first mate and as such, you are the acting-captain."

"Fine," Lyn retorted. "My orders are as follows: keep Damien alive and stay here until we get word from Captain. We're not moving until then."

"Lyn, you have to come to terms with the truth," Sabrina begged. "Alexander's right. You have duties to fulfill. You can't just stay here forever, waiting for a message from beyond the grave."

If either of her hands were free, Lyn would have slapped the black-clad woman as well. She settled for jerking her hand from Alexander's grip and stalking off down the hallway. Her two followers rapidly caught up and renewed their efforts. "Lyn, listen to reason," Sabrina pleaded. "You need to move on. Death is part of life. Nobody can escape that. You don't live forever just because you have a dream you want to fulfill."

"Damien doesn't die," Lyn shot back.

"Damien's come so fff-" Alexander took a deep breath to calm himself. "So close to death that he shouldn't still be alive. But that's Damien. He's almost indestructible. Captain was just a regular human with some irregular abilities. She had nothing to stop her from death."

"Captain's Captain. She's just as unkillable as Damien is simply because she's Captain."

"Now you know that doesn't make sense," Alexander said. "She doesn't magically gain the attributes of the rest of the crew. We followed her because of her inner strength, not her fighting skills. Granted, she could have beaten any of the three of us, but Damien and Raven could have killed her if they wanted to. The fact that they didn't shows how much she meant to them. But even they know that we need to move on. We still have dreams to accomplish and we can't accomplish them by sitting on a rock on the edge of West Blue!"

Lyn leveled a blue-eyed glare at him. "Captain has a dream that she needs to accomplish. We all promised to help her accomplish her dream and we're not going to go back on our word. We can't just abandon her. We can't leave without her."

"She's not coming back!" Alexander shouted. "We need to move on with our lives. We can't do that without you, Lyn. You are the new captain."

"Captain is the captain," Lyn repeated. "Nothing is going to change that."

"Goddammit Lyn!" Sabrina looked torn between falling on her knees and strangling the stubborn woman. "Will you please just-"

The first mate whirled around, aiming her sword at them defensively. "I do not want to hear any more out of either of you. Leave me alone."

Alexander's eyes widened as he stared at the blade aimed in his direction. "Lyn, think about what you're doing. You're going to hurt me, your nakama? Is this really what you want?"

"I want Captain to come back!" Lyn screamed, wrenching the sword away from them in frustration. "And I want you to accept the fact that she's going to come back!"

"It's that sword, Alexander," Sabrina said, unable to keep her conflicting emotions out of her voice. "Whenever she's holding Michael's sword, she goes all cold and serious. We need to get it away from her."

Lyn's eyes hardened as she realized the threat to her new weapon. "I need to be cold and serious. It hurts too much otherwise."

"Then let us help you," Alexander implored. "We're not your nakama for no reason. If you don't want to talk to me, at least talk to Damien or Raven. I'm sure they're very good listeners, albeit not very good talkers. We're all here for you. Just… give me the sword."

She brought the greatsword closer to her chest and backed away slightly. "No. Without this, I can't handle it."

"Lyn, that hurts," Alexander said. "Why can't you lean on us? You've seen Captain come to us when she's feeling overwhelmed. You're not much different in that respect."

The first mate watched as he murmured something to Sabrina, who quickly took off at a run. "Where's she going?" she asked, choosing not to respond to his comments.

"Don't worry about it," he answered calmly. "Give me the sword. Then I'll leave you alone, I promise."

"No," she replied stubbornly. "This is mine now. Go away!"

Alexander reached for the weapon, but Lyn backed farther away, glaring at him with distrustful eyes. "Can't you see what it's doing to you?" he pleaded. "This isn't you, Lyn. You're the one who washes away all of our troubles. We need you, now more than ever. That sword is changing you for the worse. You need to get rid of it!"

"I won't feel that hurt!" she screamed. "I won't let myself feel it!"

"Lyn!" Something rushed through the air, shaking the hallway slightly. The first mate stumbled a few steps backwards, staring at the musician with wide eyes. Alexander put a hand to his throat, his face contorted with discomfort. He continued on in a softer tone, his voice sounding as if he had been shouting for hours. "We need you and you need us. We won't do anything to hurt the sword, if that's what you want. We just need you to put it aside, only for a few moments. After that, you can do whatever you want."

"Listen to Alexander." Raven appeared by the alchemist's side, standing perfectly still with her arms crossed. "You do not need to suffer alone. You have supports here with us. Use them instead of resorting to simply masking your pain."

Lyn's panicked gaze jumped back and forth between them, unable to decide who was trying to deceive her more. "Raven, now you're just being hypocritical. You never turn to any of us for help! Now, you look at me like I'm weak and helpless? Well, I'm not! I have to be strong and I can't use you for support! I have to lead this crew until Captain returns!"

"That last part aside, that's exactly what I've been trying to tell you," Alexander said in mild exasperation. "You need to look at us, Lyn. What good are you doing, being so cold and distant? We need you. You need us. It's a cycle that can't be broken and shouldn't. Don't think that the woman holding that sword is who we want. We need the real Lyn, the one who knows how to make everything feel better, even if all she can do is smile."

"This is the real me!" Lyn shrieked, brandishing her sword at them. "I-"

She froze as she realized what she had just said. Was this the real her? She didn't feel real. She felt like everything was just a dream, a bad nightmare she needed to wake up from. She began trembling as she looked down at the greatsword in her hands. Her reflection stared back up at her, terrified at what it saw. Her snow-white bangs were hanging loosely in her conflicted eyes, contrasting with her deathly-pale skin. Her grip loosened on her sword, but something inside her made her pause. Her eyes squeezed shut as some fierce feeling overwhelmed her, driving away the pain she felt over Captain's disappearance.

"No…" she moaned, bringing one hand to her forehead. "I need to be… strong. Otherwise…"

"This is not strength, Lyn," Alexander informed her. "What you're doing right now is driving your nakama away. Do you really want that?"

"I don't… know…" Her grip on the greatsword was becoming painful, but she didn't let go. "I…"

Raven stared emotionlessly at her, then glanced up at Alexander. "I believe she is being influenced by something. She would not act this way under normal circumstances."

"It's that blasted sword," he responded, not bothering to lower his voice. "Theoretically, if we separate her from the sword, she'll return to normal."

The curvaceous pirate uncrossed her arms. "Shall I numb her arm?"

Lyn's eyes widened and she began backing away more quickly. "I knew it! You're against me! What have you done with my nakama? Raven, you wouldn't ever attack me, would you? What's going on? Captain! Captain, help me!"

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Alexander watched sadly as his nakama turned and fled down the hallway. He hadn't expected her to find some way of coping with losing Captain that was so detrimental. Granted, it wasn't like she was taking drugs or guzzling alcohol, but this was still a real concern. They were all feeling hurt by their sudden loss, but she was taking it the hardest. It was no surprise, really. She had always been the one whose emotions could change as suddenly as the weather at sea. He had wished her ever-present cheer would be able to overcome her grief, but that clearly wasn't the case.

"Are you sure I should not temporarily paralyze her arm?" Raven offered tonelessly. "It would separate her from the sword that you believe is the cause of these changes."

The alchemist sighed and ran his hand through his jet-colored hair. "Captain Fronk told us of how swordsmen and women can feel the spirit of their swords. Apparently, to them, swords have personalities and wills just like you or me. My guess is that that sword is affecting her greatly because of this connection. It doesn't help that she can detach her spirit from her body, which probably allows other spirits to enter her body more easily. Lyn is one of the most strong-willed people I know, so that sword must be something else to affect her like this."

Raven remained silent for a moment, contemplating this information. "You communicate with spirits. Can you talk to the sword?"

"As I said, only swordsmen can talk to swords. Maybe Sabrina could do something to help?"

"No," Raven murmured, shaking her head once. "Deus is a better choice. But if you are right, the issue is not immediately with the sword. If we choose not to attack Lyn, we are at an impasse. We need that sword out of her grasp if she is to return to normal. Once the two are separated, Deus can commune with the sword. Until then, we need to do something about her."

"If only Captain were here…" Alexander groaned in frustration.

Raven blinked at this. "If Cassandra were here, Lyn would not be in this predicament. Wishing she were here does not solve the problem."

"I know that," Alexander snapped. "That doesn't make me miss her any less. We all feel the way Lyn does, even you, Raven. We just don't have any swords to cloud our judgment. We need to find a way to snap her out of… whatever it is she's in."

"And what are we to do afterwards?" Raven asked. "Without Cassandra, we have no real destination in mind."

Alexander gave a dry chuckle. "That's entirely up to our new captain, now isn't it? I have a hunch about what she'll want to do, but it's not my decision. I still have my dream and Damien still has his. If Lyn's all right, she'll still want to see everything in the world. I think when she gets back to her usual self, she'll know exactly what to do."

A long silence followed as the two pirates merely stared in the direction Lyn had fled. Much to Alexander's surprise, Raven was the one to break it. "I will do all in my power to help you, Lyn and Damien accomplish your respective dreams."

The musician gaped at her in shock. To hear the words come out of her mouth was astonishing in itself, but to say she was going to even help Damien? He felt his view on his crewmate was being altered completely. It was obvious that she felt Captain's loss as greatly as he did, but to make her relinquish her previous reservations about the navigator… the very idea was almost unthinkable. Clearly, Alexander had gravely misunderstood his petite nakama. "Raven…" was all he could say.

"Is that a dream?" Raven inquired, staring up at him with her empty onyx eyes. "Cassandra said that I should have my own dream."

Alexander didn't know how much more surprises he could take from this woman. Completely forgetting about his wayward acting-captain, he sank down against the wall and goggled at Raven in shock. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly as he tried to voice his disbelief. How had Captain managed to hold these conversations with her? Did Raven trust Captain that much? Furthermore, why was he the one chosen to continue these talks? The answers to all of these questions were obvious, but being obvious did not make them any less surprising.

"You have overexerted yourself," Raven said as she crouched next to him, completely mistaking the reason he was sitting on the ground. "You should rest for a while."

"No, it's not that," Alexander assured her. "It's just… I'll be honest here. I never expected you to say any of the things you've said in the past minute. I'm just a bit overwhelmed. Forgive me if I sound rude."

Raven stared penetratingly at him. "There is nothing to forgive. You were not privy to the discussions Cassandra and I have had."

"It seems that Lyn isn't the only one who needs to learn to lean on all of her nakama," Alexander commented, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Anyway, what did Captain say about your desire to help all of us?"

"She said it was a fine goal, but that I needed my own selfish dream," Raven admitted tonelessly.

"And I, for one, agree with Captain's words," the alchemist told her. "Take me for example. I want to play a concert with the entire world as my audience. Obviously, I can't do that on my own. But it's something that drives me to hone my abilities and keeps me moving forward when I feel like giving up. You need something like that too. I-"

A faint burbling cut into their conversation, causing Alexander to look around in confusion. The source of the peculiar noise was revealed as Raven withdrew a Baby Den-Den Mushi from one of her myriad pockets. "Where do you keep all that?" Alexander wondered aloud despite the gravity of the situation. "Seriously, do you have a Devil Fruit that allows you to store things in your body?

Raven chose not to respond to his comment, instead lifting the receiver off of the mechanized snail. "What is it, Sabrina?"

"Demon's gone," the Baby Den-Den Mushi responded, panic and irritation in her voice.

"Damien," Alexander corrected. "Damien's gone? What do you mean, gone?"

"I was talking to myself with him in the room, bitching about Lyn and whatnot, and he suddenly gets up and leaves."

"What do you mean, he left?" the musician shouted, instantly deciding that his talk with Raven could continue later. Damien was a bigger priority at the moment.

The mollusk looked like it wanted to hit him. "I mean he got his ass up and walked out the damn door."

"Well, where is he now?" He belatedly noticed that Raven had handed him the device and had disappeared a few seconds ago, but didn't feel the need to do anything about it.

The Baby Den-Den Mushi rolled its eyes, its stalks moving in a wide circle. "I've been here for half a week and this place still all looks the same to me. I'm right on his tail, but I have no idea where he's going."

"Imma slap some sense int' tha' fuckin' 'ore," came the navigator's distinctive snarl as the snail adopted a furious expression. "Wha's yer problem? Get outta me fuckin' way."

The mechanized mollusk turned back into its representation of Sabrina. "No. I'm not going to let you attack Lyn. She's-"

Sounds of breaking rock rolled off of the snail's tongue, eliciting a look of surprise from its bearer. It fell silent, simply staring up at the confused musician. After waiting for a suitable length of time, he replaced the receiver and pocketed the device. He adjusted his glasses as he stood up and looked down the hallway, wondering what he was going to do now. He hesitantly started after Lyn, but the first mate had quite a head start on him. His slow pace didn't help matters either. Even if he caught her, what was he going to do that he hadn't tried already? He seemed to be out of options.

Like heat shooting up a chimney, a wave of tangible anger swept past him. Only one person he knew would emit such an aura even when inside a secure base. He whirled around expecting to see the source of the fury, only to find himself gazing down an empty corridor. Despite this, he knew his sadistic companion was coming. Sure enough, Damien slowly lumbered into view, his right hand extended against the wall for support. He moved with a pained limp that shook the floor with each pair of footsteps. Blood was seeping into the white bandages mummifying his body, but his one-eyed glare was no less powerful because of his injuries. His teeth were bared in a dark snarl and his dreadlocks fell menacingly before his face.

"Damien, you should be resting," he said soothingly, approaching his friend. "You must be in incredible pain."

"I can barely fuckin' stand," the wounded fighter growled. "Our black-'earted cunt says I should res'-"

Alexander sighed. "Then you should rest. No need to get yourself killed by going against our dear doctor's wishes." He paused as he realized something. "Wait, she talked to you? When did she have time for that? Where is she now?"

"Fuck if I know an' fuck if I care," Damien shot back. "Where's th' dyke?"

"Down this way." This was something he hadn't considered. While he didn't really expect Damien to produce any useful results, he hadn't thought to try to use the bullheaded navigator. He knew from the occasional midnight talk they had – 'talk' being a loose term for him interpreting Damien's grunted answers to his questions – that, to the berserker, Captain was the most important person in the world, tied with Alexander. Even then, the musician wasn't sure he was important in the same way as Captain was. Maybe, because of his feelings towards the deceased pirate captain, Damien could snap Lyn out of her trance.

The pair walked down the hallway at Damien's pace, the alchemist hovering uncertainly around him. Alexander could only imagine how dangerous his friend's injuries were, but Damien wouldn't be swayed. He continued down the corridor, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. Sometime during their travel, Raven rematerialized by their side, silently accompanying them in their journey. Alexander realized that it was almost all of the crew gathered in one place again. All they needed to do was confront their stubborn acting-captain.

When they finally came upon the woman they were looking for, Damien gave a guttural rumble. Lyn was ambling down the corridor at an awfully sluggish pace, sobbing as she clutched the sword to her chest. Alexander and Raven instinctively fell back, letting Damien stump forward. Pushing himself away from the wall, he gathered his strength and stomped one foot firmly on the ground.

He planted the other onto Lyn's back.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Lyn shouted in surprise as she was sent flying down the hallway. Her grip loosened on the greatsword, but managed to remain tight enough to keep hold of it. As she slid along the floor, she twisted around to see what was going on. Confused, she watched as Damien leapt through the air and landed on the ground next to her, sending cracks shooting through the thick stone. He sunk to one knee and grabbed her right hand with his, lifting it and slamming it onto the ground. Her fingers reflexively fell open in pain, allowing him to kick the sword out of her grasp.

But he wasn't finished. Releasing her wrist, he picked up the sword and stared at it curiously. Without looking, he slammed the sword into the wall near his head, driving it up to its hilt. Grabbing the scruff of her shirt, he hoisted her off the ground and tossed her onto the stuck weapon. She hung limply from the pommel, staring at him in shock. "You… you just…"

Damien smashed his fist into the wall next to her face, obviously demanding silence. "You pussy-ea'in' cocksuckin' cum-garglin' concubine. You think you can jus' turn yer fuckin' back on us and we wouldn' fuckin' complain? Get over yerself!"

"What?" Lyn asked, her blue eyes wide with bewilderment.

"You think yer th' only one 'oo 'ates the fac' tha' Cap'n ain' fuckin' 'ere?" he snarled. "Open yer fuckin' eyes. Som'un tol' me tha' you said we all loved our shi'y Cap'n. So why the fuck 're yeh keepin' it from us?" He spat in her face. "Wha' makes you so fuckin' special?"

"I know I'm not special!" the first mate shouted. "But I'm the acting-captain until Captain's back! I need to be able to lead you effectively and I can't do that if I'm too emotional to deal with you all."

"An' jus' 'oo the fuck're ya leadin' now, grog-swillin' dyke?" he roared back. "Yer no' fit ta lead a group o' whores, much less a pira' crew. Getcher 'ead outta yer cuntin' ass 'n' look a' us! Didjya stop for one fuckin' second an' see our pain?"

Lyn shook her head stubbornly. "You're different! I need to be in charge-"

She found herself abruptly staring down the hallway to her right. It took a second for her mind to feel the pain in her cheek and to figure out what happened. She turned back to him, bringing her fingers up in shock. "You slapped me," she breathed.

"An' I'll fuckin' do it again if ya keep this up," he growled. "An' nex' time, I won' 'old back. Yeh wanna lose sum fuckin' teeth, then keep up tha' shit yeh've been spou'in'."

"Damien," Alexander interjected. "You're not actually going to-"

The alchemist was forced backwards by a breath of fire in his direction. "Fuck off, Songbird. This is 'er problem. If she needs the shit bea'en outta 'er, then I'll gladly be th' one t' do it." He turned back to the first mate and brought his face an inch from hers. "Now lissen good. Get it into yer fuckin' skull. We gotta move forward."

"But-" She was cut off by a harder slap, indicating that he wasn't quite finished.

Here, Alexander couldn't help but protest. "Now, Damien, this isn't the time to be abusing our new leader!"

Damien whirled around to face him, his teeth bared in a feral snarl. "Yeh wan'ed my 'elp, so I'm fuckin' givin' it to ya. 'Sides, I know more'n you do. As I said, fuck off an' let me 'andle it."

"That is not the poin- Wait, what on earth do you mean, you know more than I do?" Alexander protested. "What are you-"

He fell silent as Raven raised a hand in front of his face. He looked down at the doctor in surprise, who was staring right back at him. "Let Damien finish."

Alexander's mouth opened and closed as he gaped at her. "I will not! Since when do you take his side?"

"Because he is correct in this matter," Raven responded. "Allow him to proceed as he sees fit."

"Goddammit!" Alexander shouted in frustration. "What are you two hiding?"

Evidently sick of the alchemist's interference, Damien stumped forward and gave him a mighty shove, sending him flying down the corridor. To their astonishment, he managed to land on his feet, skidding to a stop as his hands went to his injured ribs. Hackles rising as his irritation grew, Damien glanced at Raven and jabbed his chin in Alexander's direction. "Deal with 'im."

Lyn's astonishment grew as the onetime assassin followed his command without a moment's hesitation, flitting over to the alchemist making his way furiously back towards them. She was momentarily distracted by the confrontation erupting between the two, her jaw slowly dropping. Unfortunately, she forgot that being distracted while being the focus of Damien's attention was an absolutely awful idea. She was reminded of this fact when he clapped his hand to her face and forcefully twisted her back in his direction. His grip on her head was painful, but she disregarded it as she stared into Damien's ireful gaze. "Pay attention, 'ore. We got shit ta do, y'know? We can' sit 'ere on this shitty island waitin' for Cap'n to come back. She'll catch up later, tramp. But we 'ave dreams to accomplish an' we can' do it 'ere. Yer our fuckin' leader now. So wha's stoppin' ya from leadin'?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Lyn said in evident confusion, barely noticing he had released her face. "What are you talking about, she'll catch up later?"

"What was that?" Alexander shouted. "Who'll catch up later? You had better not be deluding her into believing Captain's coming back, Damien! That's not what she needs right now."

"Fuckin' cunt," the navigator snarled. "I tol' ya to keep 'im busy."

Raven glanced backwards. "Sound travels. Keep her voice down if you are so concerned about it."

"Furthermore, what on earth happened between you two?" Alexander yelled. "A week ago, you were literally at each other's throats. Now, you're cooperating! I demand an answer!"

Lyn snapped a finger in front of his green eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"You shut the fuck up!" Damien roared at her before whirling to face Raven. "Knock 'is ass out if ya have to, shi'y concubine!"

"Don't you dare, Raven," Alexander warned. "We all need to settle this as a crew."

"This situation is growing out of control," Raven commented, remaining firm as the alchemist tried to push past her.

"What are you talking about, Damien!" Lyn screamed.

Damien put his hand back on her face and slammed her head backwards. He had used only a fraction of his strength, so she was merely dazed instead of unconscious, but it still hurt quite a bit. "Songbird, I will fuckin' knock you on your ass if ya don' shut up an' leave this ta me!"

"And what would leaving it to you entail, Damien?" Alexander snapped. "You beating everyone up? Face it, mate, thinking is not your strong suit."

"Nevertheless, he is uniquely qualified to handle this particular situation," Raven informed him. "You had no success for several days. Alexander does have a point though, Damien. Attacking Lyn physically is going to create more problems than it solves."

"Not you too," the berserker growled. "If she needs ta be reminded tha' she's th' new leader and fuckin' talkin' ain' doin' th' trick, then we need t' push it."

Alexander threw his hands into the air. "You are such a child! When will you realize that violence will not solve everything? Some problems cannot be solved by brute force!"

"Yer becomin' my shi'y problem an' one that I wouldn' mind solvin' with a good fuckin' punch t' the head."

"Oh, so now you're turning on me? I'm your best mate, if you hadn't remembered that! We're on the same damn team here!"

"You are both attempting to deal with each other when it is Lyn who needs help."

"Well, he needs to find another way to help Lyn that doesn't involve physically attacking her! I will not support helping Lyn if it means beating her senseless!"

"Damien, refrain from causing harm to Lyn."

"Fuckin' cock-suckin' pig-rapin' jizz-snortin' ass-lickin' pussy 'ore cunt slut! Yer supposed t' be on my fuckin' side!"

"I am not on your side. I am attempting to restore order to this crew."

"You haven't done shit! All you've done is unintentionally stir the flames."

"You ain' done nothin' that worked fer days, shit'ead. 'Ow about botha yeh leave me th' fuck alone an' let me deal with this 'ere fuckwit."

"I will not! We don't need a leader who's black and blue from having been forced into her position!"

"Both of you are failing to realize the true problem in this situation."

"And what might that be, Raven? Is it us at fault here?"

Lyn was growing sick of this. Everyone was yelling back and forth, Damien in his smoldering bandages, Alexander red-faced with a fist in the air, Raven placid yet somehow managing to participate in the argument. The crew was tearing itself apart without Captain; that much was plainly evident. Each pirate was arguing for themselves and not for each other. Nobody was going to convince anybody else and they were getting nowhere. "Stop! Please, everyone stop!"

Silence immediately followed her words as everyone turned to face her. Tears were streaming down her face and she could barely get any words out between her sobs, but she continued bravely onwards. "We don't need to be fighting each other, guys! We need to be strong and help each other, now more than ever! That's what being nakama is all about! Please, no more fighting!"

Damien stared at her.

Alexander stared at her.

Raven stared at her.

Then, unexpectedly, Damien burst into laughter with Alexander following joyously behind. Lyn shook the tears from her eyes as she tried to figure out why they were laughing at her. All she wanted was the squabbling to cease, but she had never imagined they would laugh at her for it. She mentally noted that her emotions were spiraling out of control again, but she felt no desire to rein them in. She put her hands in front of her eyes and continued bawling, feeling stupid for hanging on the sword, stupid for trying to make peace, stupid for not being able to take Captain's place, stupid for everything!

Her breathing caught in her throat as she felt someone gently wrap their arms around her and lift her off the sword. Her legs didn't support her weight when her feet touched the ground and she almost crumpled to the ground. Fortunately, the person hugging her supported her on the way down until she was resting on the cold floorstones. She brought her hands away from her face and looked into Alexander's bespectacled eyes. "But… you were laughing at me…" Lyn mumbled, twisting away from him.

"Oh Lyn," the alchemist said fondly, slowly turning her around. "We're not laughing at you. We're just so happy that you're finally assuming the role of captain-"

"Actin'-cap'n," Damien interrupted.

Alexander glanced up at his longtime companion. "Acting-captain. Everything you've said is true. It's what we've been trying to drill into your head for the past week now. I thought for sure that I would be the one to bring you out of your funk, but it seems that Damien's rough touch was needed."

Erupting into another fit of roaring laughter, Damien reached down and ruffled Lyn's hair. "As I said, all she fuckin' needed was a good slap in the 'ead."

"I'll admit, I needed that," Lyn agreed, the familiar feeling of happiness rising in her chest. "Maybe not as hard, but I'll take what I can get."

"But why, Lyn?" Alexander asked. "Why would you turn us away?"

Lyn glanced to the side, a faint blush of embarrassment tinting her cheeks. "I just didn't want to hurt. I didn't think you would understand."

Damien gave her a light cuff on the back of the head, sending Lyn and Alexander tumbling backwards. "O' course we fuckin' unnerstan'. Y' ain' special, carpet-ea'er. We all lost 'er."

The first mate felt laughter break through her crying and she threw herself at the navigator, catching him in a bear hug. Alexander, whose collar was clenched in Lyn's firm fist, was forced to join the embrace, though he did so quite willingly. She clung to her nakama like a drowning man to a life preserver, completely confused as to why she hadn't accepted their help before. Through her blurry tears, her eyes fell upon Raven standing a few paces away with her hands crossed beneath her breasts.

"Get over here," the first mate burbled, beckoning with one hand. "Acting-Captain's Orders."

This elicited a third round of laughter from Damien and Alexander. Raven flitted over to wrap her arms around Lyn's body for the briefest of moments before moving back to her original position. Knowing how unusual it was for the black-clad doctor to even do that much, Lyn accepted that and hugged her male nakama even harder.

"We could all use a fuckin' drink," Damien announced, grinning with excitement.

"I second that," Alexander agreed. "Raven, you have the antidote, so why don't you join us?"

Lyn nodded happily as Raven dipped her head once, and then glanced up at the greatsword stuck in the wall. To her surprise, the strong navigator grasped it and jerked his wrist, snapping it in two. He handed it to her, then began lumbering off down the corridor. Lyn raised the handle to her face, pondering his actions. Unsurprisingly, Alexander figured out the reason why his lifelong friend had given her the broken weapon. "Keep it. That way, you'll remember the price for forcing us away."

"Okay!" One day, Lyn hoped to be able to figure out all of her nakama. Raven and Damien were still so mysterious, and Alexander always seemed to have more information about everything! Thinking about Captain was still painful, but Lyn knew deep in her heart that Captain would return. Until then, it was up to her to be the pillar of strength for the Black Glove Pirates. She was there to put a smile on everyone's face.

* * *

And so the conflict is resolved. What will they do now? Read the next chapter to find out.


	62. Eulogy to the Deceiver

Next chapter on Reichmann Island. Enjoy.

* * *

Lyn slowly spun in the air as she waited in the medical room for Raven to finish. Righting herself, she stared straight at the musician sitting on the chair in the corner of the room, willing him to meet her gaze. It made sense that, if she stared hard enough, he would feel her and look up from his book. After all, she was currently a disembodied spirit and he was a priest who specialized in channeling spirits. She drifted closer and closer, trying to intensify her gaze enough to draw his attention. Her nose was almost touching his when he spoke. "Lyn, I know you're trying to annoy me and it won't work. Watch Raven if you're so bored. After all, I'm sure this is her first time doing this."

"It is not," came the monotone response. Raven, like Alexander, was completely focused on the task before her.

"Are you kidding me?" the alchemist said, eyes fixed on the pages before him. "Healing, fighting, killing, and now this… is there anything you can't do?"

"There are many things I cannot do. The most immediate example is that I cannot create anything artistic. Art requires emotion and vision. I can coordinate attacks with ease, yet creating art is beyond my grasp."

"Not true," Lyn argued breathily. "You'd probably just make something boring like a cube of metal or something. But I can see what you're saying. To create something amazing, you'd have to be more like me!"

Alexander gave a snort of derision. "Yeah, what we all need is a trained assassin with your emotions. That would be a nightmare."

Lyn shook her head, chuckling lightly to herself. She tried to picture Raven bouncing around cheerfully and the image was just too funny! Slowly spinning around until she was hanging upside down, she pointed dramatically at the doctor, even though she knew Raven couldn't see her. "Are you done yet?"

"I am."

Lyn shot excitedly over to her body to see the result of Raven's work. She clapped her hands in delight and gave the petite pirate a ghostly hug. "It looks just like I wanted it to! How'd you do it?"

"Copying something is quite simple," Raven responded blandly as she began putting away her tools. "You may return to your body now."

The first mate immediately did so. The first thing she felt was a great stinging sensation throughout her entire back. She resisted the urge to comfort it and gripped the supports on the chair even more tightly. She let out a deep breath of relief as Raven began applying something moist and cool, which eased the stinging greatly. "How do people sit through all of this?"

"I bet you could have if you really wanted to," Alexander said idly. "Even though I know how hard sitting, er, lying still is for you."

"Yeah, but we've been here for hours and- ouch! Raven!"

The doctor gazed emotionlessly down at her. "Sit up." Grumbling under her breath, the acting-captain did as she was ordered. Her dark mutterings changed into a bark of laughter as Alexander turned away from the topless woman, his eyes never leaving his book. Raven began wrapping her body in white cloth, making sure not to press too hard on her stinging back. "You are not to take these off until I tell you."

"Aww," Lyn moaned, obligingly holding up her arms. "How long will that be?"

"Approximately two and a half hours," Raven droned. "After that-"

A loud knocking at the door interrupted her, drawing the attention of all three pirates. "Come in," Lyn said when it was obvious her nakama weren't going to respond.

The door opened to reveal the black-clad form of Sabrina, who let her eyes linger on Lyn's bandaged chest. "And what the hell are you doing now? The fight was over a week ago."

Lyn's eyes closed happily and she gave her most radiant grin. "Secret!"

"Not to sound rude, but why are you here now?" Alexander inquired. "After Lyn… found her wits once more, you vanished. What have you been doing?"

"Trying to get my business in order," the female pirate responded, not offended in the slightest. "You should be doing the same."

"Oh, we're all set!" Lyn chirped. "We're gonna be leaving soon for the Grand Line! It's all good because Captain's gonna catch up with us there!"

Sabrina shared a look with Alexander, who gave the smallest shake of the head. Sighing, she put a hand to her black lips and stared at Lyn analytically. "Oh really. So what are you now?"

"Acting-captain," Lyn emphasized as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I see." Sabrina tried her best to sound convinced, but didn't quite pull it off. "And who's the new first mate?"

"Alexander, duh."

The musician's eyebrows shot up at this. "Hang on a second, when did you decide this?"

"Does it matter?" Lyn shot back. "I'm acting-captain, so I make the rules. You're first mate and that's that."

"From a realistic standpoint," Raven droned, "you are the most fitting candidate. Your knowledge of piracy and nautical functioning is unmatched, you are an authority figure due to your calm nature and willingness to give commands in any situation-"

"Now, that's not true," Alexander protested. "Nobody would follow any of my orders. Raven might, but Damien sure as hell wouldn't!"

"That is not a valid argument," Raven replied. "Damien rarely follows orders from anyone, regardless of who they are. I am sure that newly-recruited crewmembers would be more willing to follow you than Damien."

"Again, not entirely true. Everyone would follow Damien's orders because he'll knock the crap out of them if they don't."

"Yeah, but do you honestly think Damien would be a good choice for first mate?" Lyn asked.

Alexander had no response to this.

"Then it's settled," Lyn said happily. "Speaking of which, where the hell is he anyway?"

Everyone turned to Raven, who stared evenly back at them. "He departed around noon two days ago, heading back towards the ocean. As usual, his reasons are unfathomable."

"Outstanding," Alexander grumbled. "Well, I'm sure he'll turn up sooner or later. So what's the plan now?"

"As I said, we're going to the Grand Line," Lyn explained. "But I think we need new crewmembers first."

The alchemist nodded sagely. "Sound choice, Lyn. Taking on the Grand Line with only the four of us isn't something I would attempt quite yet. Now, if we spent a year or so training in West Blue, maybe. But our growth would be greater in the Grand Line. So who do you want to join?"

Lyn leaned back against the chair, then winced and sat up straight. "Well, what are our options?"

"Count me out," Sabrina chimed in. "As much as I love you guys, I have a few things I need to take care of here in West Blue."

"So who else can we recruit?" the acting-captain asked.

"Naga is a powerful fighter," Alexander offered. "And Kotel has a pretty useful Devil Fruit. And… Bhavacakra. He was the last of the devils in the army."

Raven shook her head. "Bhavacakra was killed by Tango. Deus is only slightly worse than Damien when it comes to fighting, and his ability as a swordsman is certainly among the best in West Blue."

"And let's not forget Cain!" Lyn piped up. "He-"

"Cain is not available," Raven interrupted.

The onetime nun frowned at her. "What do you mean?"

"Do you not remember? Cain only accompanied us to find his charge on Reichmann Island. He has already found said charge and will be looking for passage back to Winter Isle. Winter Isle is not on the way to the Grand Line, so he will not be joining us any longer."

"Damn," Lyn muttered. "I liked him. So our list right now is Naga, Kotel and Deus."

Alexander stood up and stretched. "Does anybody know where any of them are right now?"

Sabrina snapped her fingers as she remembered something. "That's why I came here! General Taylor's funeral is today. Those three are acting as guards to prevent anything from happening. I believe Crucifix is also going to be there."

"Was she the green-haired one?" Lyn asked. Her shoulders slumped as Sabrina nodded. "I can't blame her. I don't want to burst her bubble, but she needs to know the truth. Whadda you say, Raven and Alex?"

"Alexander," the musician corrected, tucking his book beneath his arm. "Not even you can shorten it, Lyn."

The acting-captain gave an exaggerated sigh. "Alex_ander_. Should we go?"

"Oh, and Naga said there's gonna be some rules if you want to watch," Sabrina recalled. "There's an observation tower that you can monitor the funeral from, but you can't attend it yourself."

"What the hell?" Lyn shouted. "Why not?"

"He's worried that you'll do something rash and he doesn't want to have to be the one to watch you," Sabrina responded. "He also said not to tell you where the funeral will be unless you agree to watch from the tower."

Raven flitted over to the black-clad woman, staring up with cold obsidian eyes. "Do not think that I could not find out the location without your help, Sabrina."

"I have no doubt that you could," Sabrina replied, unfazed by the smaller pirate's proximity. "But can you really find it and get all three of you there on time? The funeral starts in about an hour and the tower's closer than the burying ground."

"Do not think that your previous rescue of Lyn exempts you from the advanced interrogation techniques passed down through my family," Raven threatened softly.

Sensing that the doctor was getting ready to do something harmful to Sabrina, Lyn made her decision. "We'll watch from the tower. How are we going to see if we're so far away?"

"There are binoculars there waiting for you," Sabrina explained. "And there's a Den-Den Mushi to relay the sounds of the funeral. You'll get most of the experience, but you'll do so from a distance."

"This sounds fishy to me," Alexander murmured. "Are you sure this is wise, Lyn?"

"I am acting-captain of the Black Glove Pirates," Lyn announced. "I say we go. Are there any arguments against it?" Nobody said a word. "Then we're going. Tell us where this tower is, Sabrina. We'll watch from there."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Fifty minutes later, the three pirates were gathered on the tower overlooking R. Yahns. Raven was crouched on the railing, her eyes closed as she listened to the Den-Den Mushi. Alexander was sitting on the floor against the wall, playing a soft dirge on his muted trumpet. Lyn was the only one watching, leaning against the railing and staring through the binoculars. Her elbows rested on the thin beam as she basked in the sunlight, waiting for something to happen.

The service was taking place in a small park near the edge of the city. Obviously, whoever had organized the event wanted to make sure the Reichmanns wouldn't get suspicious of such a large gathering. Raven had mentioned something about the powerful family having their own token funeral for Tolstoy Reichmann and his slain progeny. The mourners for General Taylor were all gathered in seats on the grass, most of them rebels Lyn recognized from the army. She estimated there were over a hundred people attending, the pitiful remnants of the assault on Reichmann Manor. They were all facing towards a large circle of stone, where an organized pile of wood lay waiting in the center.

"What is going on?" Raven droned.

"Some huge guy is digging two graves with a silver spade in front of the little stone building behind the stone circle," Lyn told her. "Alls or Tala lost or something?"

"Atlas," the doctor supplied. "The stone construction is called a mausoleum."

"Right. Umm… some people are standing guard around the edges too. I know Deus, Zion, Naga and Sabbath. There's a woman who looks like a princess and the green-haired woman who attacked me."

"Kotel," Alexander said.

"Crucifix," Raven said simultaneously.

Lyn glanced back at both of them. "Yeah. Crucifix is the green one?" Raven nodded her head once. The acting-captain returned to the funeral with sad eyes. "She's crying, the poor girl. She shouldn't have to deal with this. I didn't want to fight her, you know. I mean, I did want to beat her because she was defending Tolstoy Reichmann even though she thought she was defending General Taylor, but part of me was sad for her. She put him up on a pedestal and look where it got her."

"She would have killed you had Cain not interfered," Raven reminded her tonelessly.

"I know," Lyn sighed. "It doesn't make the situation any less sad. I don't want to break the news to her. But I'm going down there after the funeral. It's pretty far, but most of the people will want to stay. I'll talk to whoever's remaining."

Alexander briefly broke off his music to interject. "That's very mature of you, Lyn."

She shrugged. "It's what needs to be done. Oh, now they're putting Michael and Sariputta into the ground. It's funny how they're being buried with General Taylor. I don't see him yet…"

For a moment, all that could be heard was the twittering of birds and the woeful notes issuing from Alexander's trumpet. Lyn used the time to reflect on the monumental tasks before her. She had a pirate crew to lead, a group of rebels to see straight and friends to part ways with. She didn't want to do any of them, but there was nobody else to do them. Sure, Alexander was better with his words, but it wouldn't be right for him to speak up. Sure, Damien probably wouldn't listen to her at all, but he definitely wouldn't listen to anyone else. Sure, she would be sad to see her friends go, but there was always the glimmer of hope that one of them would be joining her. Lyn had the marvelous ability to always have her eyes fixed on the silver lining. Life was just too depressing sometimes if she didn't.

"Some guy whose name I think is John is now carrying the litter of General Taylor," Lyn said quietly. "Wow. That thing must weigh a lot, even through it's wood. He's the only one carrying it, too. There are golden chains wrapped around it with something carved on them, but I can't make out what."

"General Taylor's name," Raven provided.

Lyn whirled around at this. "And how the hell do you know that?"

"I was there when they prepared him for the cremation. I was required to make him look presentable."

"Presentable?" Lyn inquired.

"Cassandra shot him seventy two times and he broke forty six bones when he fell from the clocktower," the doctor explained. "It took myself and two other specialists to remove his armor, position his body in a somewhat natural position, fit him with new armor and fill most of the holes in his face. He now closely resembles Damien in terms of scarring."

The Den-Den Mushi emitted the sound of creaking wood as the body was placed upon the pile. John turned about and stared at the gathering before him. He took several deep breaths and raised his arms to gain their attention. "We are here today to mourn the passing of General Taylor Monchstein. He was a great man who dedicated his life to stopping the oppression that ravages this island. He was a strong man who had the courage to pick up his lance and stand in the face of certain doom. He was a kind man who accepted everyone equally and gave them the anonymity needed to fight without fear of being persecuted.

"But he was, as we all are, mortal. In Reichmann Manor, he encountered the diabolical fiend Tolstoy Reichmann and met his match. Though he managed to kill the Reichmann, his wounds were too great for him to survive. Speaking for him now are three people he selected as leaders: one for his power, one for his skill and one for her heart. Zion, Deus and Crucifix, please step forward one at a time and deliver your final comments."

The enormous man slowly walked over from his position as a guard, bowing his head slightly in John's direction. Adjusting the tiny glasses perched before his eyes, he gazed around and began speaking in his deep, musical voice. "General Taylor. He was a gud man. Dat man was a fighter til de end, never fearing de people he was going against. I was wit him since two attacks ago, dough bot of dem didn't end so well. De first, General Taylor was just a team leader, much like myself, elected to lead the charge. He was a secretive man, den, always hiding himself from de world beneat his hood. We didn't see much of him, only his lance in battle.

"But he came back from dat attack a changed man. Our previous leader had been slain in battle and General Taylor took control of dis army. He tried many small attacks with small parties, but dey all ended in failures. Dat's why he got us all togedder to make one last charge. He led us straight and true, right into de heart of Reichmann Manor itself. I wasn't one of de ones to go wit him and see his final moments, but I am sure he died honorably. He rid de world of an oppressive and crafty tyrant, and for dat I am thankful. Tolsty Reichmann is paying for his sins in de afterlife, while General Taylor is enjoying de paradise all heroes go to.

"Not only dat, but he is accompanied by two of his friends, Sariputta and Michael. Togedder, de tree of dem are undoubtedly sad that dey failed, but dey're proud dat they left de world a little better dan when dey left. And so, we have Sariputta and Michael buried before him as guardians, where dey will rest for all time. We send General Taylor to de heavens in ashes, a true warrior's passing. I tank you for your guidance, my leader. I will help continue de fight where you left off until Reichmann Island is no longer under de crushing grip of oppression."

The audience clapped politely as he lumbered back to his place, his beady eyes showing all the emotions he felt. The next speaker strolled calmly forward, a few bandages still wrapped around his head. Deus withdrew his lengthy sword from its sheath and stabbed it into the ground, then hopped on top of it with a single bound. Spinning about to stare at the crowd, he balanced on a single geta as he spoke.

"Now, I'm not like Zion. I'm just a passing swordsman seeking his fortune in West Blue. I've tested my sword against other swordbearers and come out on top. I did odd jobs here and there, some mercenary work on one island, bounty hunting on the next. Nothing really challenged me and I felt no reason to do anything but attempt to satiate my wanderlust.

"But when I came to Reichmann Island after their navy sunk my boat, I was approached by a rebel who sadly perished in combat shortly afterwards. My services were requested and I gladly accepted. For the first time, I felt like I was fighting for something. Of course, I was still a bit overconfident in my abilities and actually challenged General Taylor to a duel. We fought for twelve whole hours before he finally disarmed and knocked me out.

"It was General Taylor who beat the humility into me, Sariputta who steered me back onto the right path and Michael who lifted my spirits back to where they should be. These three helped me get my life back on track to where it should be. It is truly sad that they perished the way that they did, but, as Zion said, they left behind a legacy. They left us with a better grasp of what we're going up against and he managed to take out some of the biggest threats facing us. Don't dismiss what he's done. Tolstoy Reichmann was one of the most cunning people in West Blue. I can only name one other person who outstrips him in terms of cleverness and wits. She was actually the one who helped kill General Taylor, but this isn't about her. The point is that General Taylor was matched against an intelligent and very powerful man. Although he was not strong enough to take Tolstoy Reichmann out without dying, the fact that he managed to do so tells of his inner strength and outer power.

"I grieve for his passing just like all of you. Without him, I would still be a sake-drinking mercenary doing jobs for change. Now I have a dream to lift this sword and help the less-privileged people of the world with their troubles. I am a better person having met General Taylor. Thank you."

Deus flipped into a handstand, pulled his katana out of the ground and landed on the stone circle in one fluid motion. Resheathing his sword, he bowed his head to the mourners and strode down the aisle to his guard position. Everyone waited for a moment for Crucifix to step forward, but she didn't move, choosing instead to simply stand there, clutching her segmented staff. Sabbath stormed up to her and hissed something in her ear but only received a head shake in return. Sighing loudly, the punk walked to the front of the audience and leaned on her bazooka.

"Well, since Crucifix is being a whiny bitch, I guess I'll step in." She accentuated the end of her sentence with a crack of her gum. "Um… lessee… General Taylor was… I dunno. Cool, I guess. I've lived on this island since I've been born. I lost my mom to the Reichmanns when I was six years old. Never really forgave them, you know? But there wasn't anything I could do. Sure, I sabotaged the odd shipment and blew up a couple buildings, but that wasn't a real rebellion.

"Then I catch word of this resistance and I'm thinking 'Fuck yeah, I have to join.' Couldn't find anything more about it for quite some time. Then I get word from some loser who worked for the rebels, said they liked my stuff. So I go the rebellion and what do I find? A buncha dickheads with their heads up their asses waddling around like chickens with their heads blown off. But there was one group of people who actually knew what they were doing. That group was headed by this quiet monk guy who only spoke when he was giving orders. I thought 'Sweet. I'll go with him.'

"Battle comes and goes and we're two of the few survivors. I lost track of him, but I found him standing over this Reichmann he had beaten beyond recognition. At first I thought he was a Reichmann, you know? I'd never seen his hair before because he was wearing his hood all the time, so I attacked him. But I recognized his eyes, see. His eyes were the same as always.

"Course, it was later that I found out he was a Reichmann, well, half-Reichmann. Things were a bit weird when he took charge but-"

"Stop right there!" Lyn snapped her binoculars around, trying to find the source of the interruption. Her eyes widened as she saw a throng of blue-haired, black-cloaked people standing at the edge of the gathering. The rebel guards were instantly between the Reichmanns and the mourners, hands ready at their weapons. There were two people at the front of the newcomers, a tall man in a red-lined cloak and a woman with a thin strip of cloth around her eyes. It was the man who had spoken and he stared at the rebels with cold hatred. "Do you even comprehend what you are doing?"

Lyn dimly registered movement behind her. She brought her eyes away from the binoculars and glanced back at Raven, who had hopped off of the railing and was staring at the distant gathering with emotionless black eyes. When offered the chance to look the the binoculars, the doctor declined, but she didn't get back onto the railing. Shrugging, Lyn returned to the funeral.

"We're grieving the loss of a leader you killed!" Crucifix screamed, speaking up for the first time. "General Taylor took out your Tolstoy Reichmann!"

"You poor, misguided fool," he sneered. "Don't you know? Haven't you figured it out yet? Taylor Monchstein _is_ Tolstoy Reichmann!"

Loud murmurs swept through the rebels. Lyn's grip tightened on the binoculars, threatening to shatter the device. This was not the way they were supposed to learn! She was supposed to guide them into it with tact and care, not brutally and especially not in the middle of the damned funeral! She had half a mind to go there right now and give them a piece of her mind. Gritting her teeth, she focused once more on what was going on.

"That's… that's not true!" Crucifix wailed. "That can't be true!"

"Let's look at the basics, here," the man growled. "Rearrange the letters. He took his own name and created an anagram to mock you all for not figuring it out! Plus, let's take a closer look at our friend's statement. She said she found him standing over a Reichmann. While it was true that the original General Taylor was a half-blood, Tolstoy was pure. He saw the opportunity to take back Reichmann Manor from the original rebels, who were the troops you fought, by the way. So he switched places with the old General Taylor and led the army against the manor."

"So… all those people we fought…" Sabbath gasped.

The man's cruel grin widened. "Rebels who had seized Reichmann Manor in the most recent successful attempt. Tolstoy was just using you all to take back what we lost."

Cries of fury rolled out of the mourning rebels and no few hands found weapons. Only an explosion engulfing a nearby tree prevented combat from breaking out. All eyes turned to Sabbath, who was holding her smoking rocket launcher and glaring at the crowd. "Everybody settle down for a moment! We barely outnumber them and if you fight, most of you are sure to die. Everyone, slowly back away from the Reichmanns."

The male Reichmann withdrew his hands from his cloak, revealing two wickedly curving swords. "Smartest move you ever made, woman. Oh, make no mistake, all of you are dying for treason against the state. But we need to make you all suffer for your crimes. For now, we're just seizing the body of _our_ leader, but don't be going anywhere. Your executions are coming soon."

The rest of the blue-haired family chuckled darkly to each other, nodding at his words. The man took a step forward, raising his hands into the air, letting his swords glitter in the sunlight. "Now it is time for the truth! Tolstoy Reichmann enacted a generous amount of strict laws and regulations and I am sure you didn't like them. But he was a father to all of us, even those older than he was. He was one of the finest Reichmanns this island has ever produced. Wise, crafty and kind to us all, he enabled us to live in the lap of luxury! We, too, grieve for his loss. That is why he is going to be buried in the family tomb, like he should be."

"Wait a minute," Sabbath interrupted. "If he is who you say he is, then who killed him?"

"It was that bitch Pride!" Crucifix yelled. "General Taylor isn't Tolstoy Reichmann! Pride killed him because… because…"

"You see?" the male Reichmann asked, striding towards the unlit pyre. Nobody stopped him. "You cannot deny the truth. The rebel Pride killed him because she found out who he really was. She fought him and managed to kill him."

Crucifix turned her rage-filled green eyes towards him, holding her staff threateningly. "Then where is she? Why didn't we find her when we recovered General Taylor's body?"

"That is a good question," the man murmured as he stopped next to the stack of wood, staring down at the corpse. "Like you undoubtedly have, we interrogated every gravekeeper near Reichmann Manor. Nobody knows where she vanished off to. That's undoubtedly how you managed to keep your story about him killing a different part of himself. Believe me, we want to find her just as much as you do.

"But that is not the important part." He climbed onto the pyre and picked up the armored body, holding him in his arms. "The important part is that-"

"She came back."

Raven disappeared.

Alexander cut off his tune with a strangled note.

Lyn actually did crush one part of the binoculars.

There was no way they should be hearing that voice. Its owner was gone.

The blue-haired woman with the bandage around her eyes stepped forward, separating herself from the other Reichmanns. "She came back from that fall. She came back despite being impaled through the chest. She came back because her bond with her nakama was too important to break. She came back because there were still dreams to accomplish and still oppressors to be punished."

Deus tossed her a white cowboy hat, which she caught despite being blindfolded. Lyn's eyes widened as she saw the familiar black glove, the Jolly Roger she had drawn stitched on the back. The blue-haired woman casually reached behind her head and undid her blindfold. To everyone's surprise, her eyes were hazel instead of the pale yellow of the Reichmanns. "I am Cassandra Negras. I've come back from the gates of Hell to give you this message: the gods of death will welcome you all with open arms."

* * *

What's going on? Is it a trick? A clever ploy from the Reichmanns to break their spirits? Or is she actually back? Next time, you'll find out.


	63. Reforming the Crew

I don't think we'll be on Reichmann Island for much longer. I can't wait for the Grand Line.

* * *

Lyn threw her binoculars to the side and whirled on the ball of her foot. Darting over to Alexander, she grabbed him by the collar and bodily lifted him from the ground. Ignoring his vocal protests, she turned about and hopped over the railing. She twisted in midair and grabbed a stone protrusion, using it to halt her downward momentum. Alexander flew by her, his weight jerking suddenly on her shoulder. After making sure she was temporarily halted, she let go, resuming her fall. This time, she grabbed onto a flagpole and released Alexander, using her arm to loop around the thin metal rod. The musician's yells increased as he plummeted downwards, but Lyn wasn't worried. As she expected, Raven appeared in midair to momentarily catch him, then vanished as Lyn resumed her plunge.

They continued in this fashion to quickly descend the building, Lyn using acrobatics and skills she had honed in the streets of Alamentia, Alexander tumbling head over heels as he was roughly halted every so often, Raven appearing to make sure nobody got hurt. When the trio finally landed on the ground, the alchemist immediately fell to the ground, his hands going to his aching head. Lyn gave him no time to rest; her desire to see if Captain was really back overriding all concern she felt for her nakama. Yanking him to his feet, she began sprinting through the city, the black-clad doctor zipping through the air beside her.

They could do nothing but run and listen to the Den-Den Mushi on Raven's back. Even though they were moving at their top speed, they wouldn't reach the funeral for several minutes.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Everyone simply stared at her. The Reichmanns were just as astonished as the rebels were. Cassandra shrugged off the cloak she was using to disguise herself as one of the former and rolled her shoulders. She was still clad in the same, week-old clothing that she had worn during the assault on Reichmann Manor, leaving nobody in doubt of her identity. Her left hand was at her side, her right raised in the air. The eyes of all were drawn to the spearhead still tinged red with her blood. The Reichmanns recognized that speartip, even if the rebels didn't.

"But... how?" the male holding the body of Tolstoy Reichmann gasped. "How did you live when he died?"

"I told you. I needed to come back," she replied. "I stood face-to-face with Mors himself and demanded my return. When the black god could not refuse my words, I came back to the land of the living, cursed with undeath. I cannot fall until wrongs have been righted. That is why I have called for the execution of the Reichmanns present."

"Execution?" a blue-haired woman asked haughtily. "You're going to execute us? Foolish girl, do not think that your fancy words and tricks will deceive us into surrendering."

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about surrendering? I'm talking about genocide. This is the last moment you all will spend on this earth. I doubt the gods will grant you mercy for your sins."

"And how do you expect to kill us all?" the man holding the corpse asked.

"Well, not by myself, obviously," she answered. "With help. All you rebels, stay in your seats! Comrades, attack!"

It took less than a minute for all the Reichmanns to fall. Those that put up a fight met Zion's kicks. Those that attempted to protect other family members were cut down by Deus' sword. Those that tried to flee were punished by Sabbath's rockets. Those that begged for mercy were impaled by Naga's trident. And any Reichmanns that managed to avoid a fatal blow from one of the four rebel guards were slain with a single bullet from Cassandra's pistols. The five fighters pulverized the blue-haired crowd like mortar and pestle grinding seeds to dust. There was no glory, no honor to be found in this execution. It was simply five dedicated cats versus fifty defenseless mice.

When the family lay on the ground in pools of their own blood, Cassandra turned to the only one they had left alive. The man on the unlit pyre stared goggle-eyed at them, his shock at seeing his relatives so efficiently slain evident on his face. She set her mouth in a grim line as she aimed her pistol at him and cocked it. "What is your name?"

"H-Hans Reichmann," he responded shakily.

"Well, Hans, can you guess why we're leaving you alive?" she inquired.

He slowly shook his head from side to side. "Mercy, perhaps?"

Cassandra and her four compatriots let out noises of derision. "No," the cowgirl said. "It's because I want to send a message. There are free men and women on Reichmann Island who will continue to fight until injustice becomes a thing of the past. Know that these people will fight until they free this entire island. Now, begone!"

"Yes, ma'am." Hans started off, but was brought to a halt by a red-eyed Crucifix.

"Leave him," she said tearfully, gripping her segmented staff tightly.

"But-"

"Leave him!" she screamed.

Cassandra gave an amused smirk. "I would do as the lady says, Hans."

The Reichmann nodded and placed the corpse back onto the pile of wood. He bounded onto the ground and sprinted away, swiftly vanishing from sight. Cassandra rubbed her forehead as she stared after him, reholstering her pistols as she did so. "Well, that's settled. And now, I'm sure you all want some answers."

She raised an eyebrow as Crucifix ran towards her, brandishing her weapon. "You killed him! I don't care if he was Tolstoy Reichmann; he still meant everything to me!"

The sniper was in no mood to deal with this obviously distraught woman. With a muttered "Voluntas Carnae," she ducked beneath the rod of wood and slammed her hand into Crucifix's throat. The green-haired woman dropped her weapon and scrambled backwards, clutching her injured neck. "Listen to me, Crucifix. I do not have time for your issues. I don't care that you were Tolstoy's lover. If you attack me again, I will kill you. Now, I have four people heading here that will require my undivided attention. Now, who has any questions before they arrive?"

"How did you survive?" a rebel asked.

"I told you, I argued with Mors to give me another chance," Cassandra announced. "Are there any other questions that don't involve how I came back?"

A short pause. "Are you going to be the next leader of the rebellion?"

"I am not," she replied. "That job will be delegated to Zion."

"Are you going to stay and help?"

"Again, no," she stated. "I am hopefully needed elsewhere and-"

"CAPTAIN!" She was interrupted as what seemed like a human missile impacted her back. She was turned about and swung into the air, around and around, while being kissed on her eyes, her lips, her cheeks, her forehead. When she finally got her bearings back, she found herself staring into the electric blue eyes of her best friend, who was practically shining with pleasure. "I knew you'd be back; I just knew it!"

"Quite the vanishing act you pulled there, Cassandra." Her heart fell as she heard her name and the hurt in Alexander's voice. She looked over Lyn's shoulder to see the musician leaning his elbows on his knees, huffing and puffing mightily. When he did look up, he looked every bit as emotionally injured as his voice indicated.

"I simply wonder why you did not inform us of your survival," Raven droned, materializing beside the gasping alchemist. "You did not need to put up this charade and cause us such distress."

Cassandra wasn't surprised by the different reactions. Although Lyn would instantly forgive her simply because she was alive and not dead, Alexander would require a thorough explanation and Raven would need a brief one. "I wanted to talk to you all, I wanted it so badly, but I couldn't do it without blowing my cover. I needed to get all the Reichmanns to gather together and the only reason they would do so was to recover Tolstoy's body. So I blindfolded myself, took a cloak, and pretended to be a Reichmann. It wasn't that hard, considering how many there are. They didn't notice one more slipping into the ranks." She paused as she looked around. "Where's Damien? Lyn, why are you still wearing bandages?"

"Can I, Raven?" Lyn inquired energetically, her face falling slightly as the doctor shook her head.

"And Damien went AWOL a few days ago," Alexander said angrily. "So why are you here, now?"

She raised her hand to forestall any more questions. "I want to talk, but we need to move to a private location. I have a house down the block that we can go to for now."

The walk couldn't have taken more than a few minutes, but Lyn was almost overflowing with excitement and babbled despite Cassandra's wish not to stay silent. Alexander walked with his hands crossed before his chest and Raven watched carefully from the rooftops. When they entered the small house that the sniper had rented with some of the Reichmann's funds, she led them into a room with a few couches and slumped down into one.

"What did you do with your hair?" Lyn bubbled. "I love it!"

"This is my natural hair color," Cassandra told her, running her hand through her ultramarine locks. "I dyed it so I could pretend to be normal. It's time for me to come clean. Before I was a pirate, I was-"

"An assassin," Alexander cut in.

Cassandra couldn't hide her surprise. "How did you know?"

"Oh, give me a little credit, Cassandra," he snapped. "You've known Raven for years and she was an assassin. Do you really expect me to think that Raven was your friend simply because you were social? You grew up in the same environment, so it stands to reason that you should be an assassin as well."

She gave a light chuckle. "It shouldn't surprise me that you figured it out. Yes, like Raven, I was an assassin. I was heiress to the most powerful assassin family in the world, but my final assignment was one I couldn't complete. I had to kill my own sister, not one by blood, but one by time of birth."

"Raven," Alexander said.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm beginning to think that you know more than you let on. Then can you tell me how I survived?"

"That, I haven't been able to figure out," he growled.

"I ate a Devil Fruit, just like you did," she admitted. "I ate the Nao Nao no Mi, which causes me to regenerate from almost any wound."

"So you're immortal!" Lyn exclaimed. "Awesome!"

Cassandra shook her head. "I can still be killed, but it takes a lot more to kill me. And there's no coming back if I actually die. It was actually a parting gift from my father."

"So that's why you bought that ring of seastone!" Alexander murmured. "You bi... liar! You deliberately kept this from us! How could you do that, Cassandra? How could you keep something as important as this hidden from your nakama?"

"Well, I didn't keep it from all of you," she confessed. "Raven has known since she joined and Damien figured it out not too long ago. That's why he attacked me, remember? He knew that he couldn't harm me permanently and was furious for lying to him. To all of you."

"And he's not the only one!" Alexander shouted, leaping to his feet. "You are one manipulative bitch, Cassandra! We trusted you with everything and you repay us with this? Why did you even come back to us now? Do you have any idea what you put us through? Lyn was out of commission for a week, crying her heart out! Damien was even more angry than usual and Raven even took time to actually talk to us! How dare you come back and just expect us all to forgive you!"

"Alexander-"

The alchemist stomped his foot on the floor. "I don't care how Lyn looks right now! You have no idea what she was like! There's a part of her that was hurt more badly than any of us and that part won't forget that easily! And Raven! You know exactly how much she looks up to you and what you mean to her! It all makes sense now, why she's so devoted to you despite the fact that she would make an excellent assassin! Don't even get me started on Damien! I'm surprised he didn't take off sooner! If he knew that you would be back, he would be expecting you within a day at most! A whole week? What were you thinking?"

He terminated with a guttural sound of frustration and stormed out the door, slamming it behind him. Cassandra had nothing to say in the face of all these truthful accusations. She knew it would be hard for them to accept her after her intentional disappearance, but she hadn't truly thought of the effect she would have on them. She turned to Raven and Lyn, who were staring right back at her. "I deserved that," she whispered. "And more. But you understand, don't you Raven? I couldn't blow my cover."

"We are more important than any injustice on this island," the doctor said tonelessly. "I agree with Alexander on this point. You had no right to simply abandon us. Damien and I were put under even more pressure, as we were reasonably sure that you had survived. However, I knew it would be cruel to Lyn and Alexander if we were to get their hopes up and you never did return. Your apparent death was a source of great agony to all of them. I myself experienced emotions for the first time that I can remember. It was not an enjoyable experience."

"Raven..." Cassandra breathed, unable to say anything else.

"Damien nearly melted the bones inside his own arm," the black-clad pirate continued. "Alexander nearly destroyed his vocal chords. I used the blood of my ancestors which nearly sent my heart into cardiac arrest. Your importance to us is more than just as leader and friend. You are the oldest sister to us, just as you are the oldest of the Moon Sisters. We are loyal to you. We never hid anything from you. And you repaid us with deceit and treachery. Trust is a thing we gave you freely simply because you asked it from us. You broke it and the bonds will now be harder to reforge than ever. Now, I must see that Alexander does not do anything rash."

She disappeared in a black blur, flying up the stairs and out of sight. Cassandra couldn't help but let tears gather in her eyes. She slumped down and put her face in her hands, her shoulder shaking with sobs. She froze as she felt Lyn put an arm around her shoulders and rest her head on the cowgirl's. "Sh... sh... it's okay, Captain. It's gonna be all right."

"No, it won't, Lyn," Cassandra cried. "It won't be okay. They hate me now."

"They don't hate you," Lyn cooed. "They're just mad. And they have a right to be. But they'll forgive you. Sure, there will be consequences that you're gonna have to deal with, but they'll forgive you. Remember how Raven said you were important to us? You're more important to us than our dreams, Captain. We would all die for our dreams. We would never turn our back on you, ever. We all need you."

Cassandra willingly turned into the onetime nun's embrace. "It hurts so much, Lyn. Why don't they understand that making that decision was one of the hardest I've ever made?"

"Because Raven's right. The only thing we want you to put us aside for is your dream. Anything else and we expect you to be there for us. All you needed to do was leave us a note or a message, anything."

"But I couldn't!" Cassandra shouted. "I..."

"Yes, you could," Lyn said gently and firmly. "I was a soul lost without purpose for a few days. Damien had to forcefully remind me where my priorities lay. I bet he's gonna do something similar to you too."

Cassandra couldn't help but give a wet chuckle at this. "He 'exacted punishment' on me for simply lying to you about my Devil Fruit. I can't imagine what he's going to do to me for this."

"Oh! Oh!" Lyn yelled, bouncing to her feet. "I wanna see it! I wanna see it!"

"Lyn, this isn't a showy Devil Fruit. I can't transform into an animal or elements or do anything cool. This is a purely defensive ability. I can't be hurt for long. Drugs and poisons simply burn out of my system. I can see some potential offensive uses for it, but, for now, I'm working on healing without exhausting myself too much."

"Pleeeeeeease?" Lyn whined. "Show me, show me!"

Cassandra leaned her head back. "I should have known it would be you. I can't stay sad when I'm around you, Lyn."

"So never leave and you'll never be sad!" Lyn shouted with childish reasoning. "Duh!"

The sniper stood up and led Lyn outside. "If it's a demonstration you want, a demonstration you'll get. Okay, stand over there and draw your rapier." The artist did as she was told. Cassandra stood unarmed and took a deep breath. "Now stab me. Don't worry about hurting me. You can't, remember!"

Lyn nodded and thrusted forward with surprising speed. Cassandra could have easily have dodged the blade, but that would defeat the purpose of the demonstration. Instead, she darted forward as well, allowing the sword to take her through the chest. Lyn's eyes widened with surprise as the cowgirl's fist flew forward and knocked the other woman onto the ground. The scantily-dressed pirate unintentionally let go of her rapier as she tumbled backwards. She sprang to her feet, only to find that Cassandra had yanked the weapon out of her own body and now rested the blade at the first mate's throat.

"Woah!" Lyn exclaimed, unfazed by the blade touching her skin. "That was amazing! You're just like Damien now!"

"While both Damien and Cassandra heal at extraordinary rates, their fighting styles are still quite different." Raven materialized between them, staring evenly at Lyn. "However, in this respect, Cassandra can receive ordinarily fatal blows and use the opponent's subsequent surprise to deliver a final blow, a situation she just demonstrated with you."

Without looking backwards, her arm moved in a black blur, sending something silver hurtling in Cassandra's direction. The cowgirl's hand flew up and a shard of pain shot through her arm. Lyn's eyes widened even further as she saw the knife sticking clear through her friend's palm. With a pained grimace, Cassandra yanked the weapon out of her hand and shook her palm in midair, sanguine droplets sprinkling the ground. Her hand was promptly captured by the former nun and all three women watched as the crimson wound crept closed. Soon, all that remained of the injury was a splatter of red blood in the center of her palm.

"Amazing!" Lyn roared, hugging Cassandra tightly once more. "So amazing!"

"Unbelievable, one might say." Everyone turned to see Alexander standing in the middle of the street with his arms crossed. "Why would you hide this from us, Cassandra?"

The feeling of hurt and regret flooded back into the gunslinger's heart. She gathered her courage and subconsciously straightened to face the simmering alchemist. She briefly flashed back to her episode on Autumn Isle and gave a fleeting grin. "I can't explain my decision, Alexander. I was paranoid and afraid to trust even those close to me. I know I screwed up, but I beg of you: please give me one more chance. I swear I'll never let you down again. I'm an open book to you; ask, and I will answer. Just please, one more chance."

The musician's flinty eyes stared penetratingly into hers. Finally, he uncrossed his arms and heaved a huge sigh. "You'll always have one more chance in my book, Captain."

Laughing gaily, Lyn grabbed Cassandra and pulled her over to Alexander, where she embraced the two of them tightly. The renewed captain hugged her two crewmembers back, happy to be with them once more. "Friends?" she asked, unable to keep the relief from her voice.

"Nakama," Alexander and Lyn responded simultaneously.

They held the group hug for a moment longer, then grudgingly broke apart. Cassandra gave a shaky laugh as she ran a hand through her blue hair. "So, that's three out of four down. Now I just have to deal with the hardest of them all."

"Don't kid yourself, Captain," the musician said. "He'll accept you back. There just might be some… trials that you have to deal with. And remember that you're going to be punished for breaking the most important rule of the Black Glove Pirates."

"Oh?" Cassandra intoned. "And what might that be?"

"Never, under any circumstances, hurt another Black Glove Pirate," Alexander stated. "Light physical wounds are permitted, as we are pirates and pirates are supposed to be boisterous and bawdy, but serious physical harm and internal injuries are forbidden. The punishments are grave for those crimes and the captain is no exception. Raven, Damien and I will talk about what will be fitting punishments for hurting the three of us."

"Hey!" Lyn interjected. "What about me?"

"Oh, Raven and I already decided yours," Alexander assured her. "You're going to show her the past week."

Lyn nodded emphatically. "I can do that. But Captain, you haven't heard what we did!"

"So I haven't," Cassandra agreed. "Fill me in on how your fights went and everything afterwards."

During the walk back to the hidden rebel base, the four pirates exchanged stories. Lyn first told of the terrible Nessie Reichmann and her friend Roland, of Envy's heroic fall, of Michael's greatsword and of Crucifix's final attack. Her stories were emphasized by dramatic hand movements and occasional reenactments of the scenes. Alexander didn't use his body to tell his side of the battle, but his words carried no less weight. He spoke of Excel and the teamwork required to take him down, of Avarice's betrayal and of Naga's companionship, of his surprising new abilities. Cassandra couldn't help but feel angry enough to strangle the traitorous elementalist and applauded Alexander's method of removing him from combat. Raven followed with her usual flat drone, but her tale was debatably the most impressive of all. The pirate captain listened in awe as the doctor told of the extremely powerful duo Tango and Nikolai Reichmann, of Deus' brave attempts, of Raven's sloppy yet destructive seventh skill and of Damien's incredible power.

When it was Cassandra's turn, she fell quiet. Slowly, she described the chase through the labyrinthine bookcases, of Tolstoy Reichmann's eventual fall and her plunge out of the clocktower window. She related the agony she was in as all of her bones stitched themselves back together and her ruptured organs regenerated. She spoke of the difficulty involved in sneaking through the underground to a nearby Reichmann house and integrating herself into their midst. She explained the heartwrenching decision not to send word to her nakama for fear that it might be intercepted and her cover revealed. She concluded with her dramatic unveiling and her massacre of the Reichmanns.

By the time she was finished, they were back at their place of residence in the rebel base. There, Alexander sat Cassandra and Lyn down and instructed the first mate to use her spirit memories to show the sniper what it had been like. Raven spent the next three hours watching over the still women while Alexander went to see if there was any food still in the base. When he returned, he sat and ate, waiting for his nakama to rise.

When Cassandra opened her eyes, they immediately filled with tears. "I'm so sorry," she said sadly. "I never meant to cause this much harm. If I had known, I would have come back without hesitation. Please, forgive me. Forgive me."

"And that, Captain, is why that was your first punishment," Alexander told her, satisfaction evident on his face. "Now I think Lyn has something she wants to show you."

The first mate was practically bouncing with anticipation and glanced over to Raven for permission. When she got a nod in response, she stood up and extended her arms. Cassandra watched as the doctor moved around Lyn, making expert cuts all along the bandages surrounding Lyn's torso. She smiled as Alexander turned away and pretended to be suddenly interested in a speck on the wall behind them. As the bandages fell away from Lyn's nude body and the former nun turned around, Cassandra raised her eyebrows in shock. Tattooed on Lyn's back was her Jolly Roger, a faint red irritation surrounding the glove, pistols, hat and grinning skull.

"Like it?" Lyn asked happily.

"I love it," Cassandra breathed, hearing a grunt of affirmation from Alexander as he glanced back over his shoulder. "I'm guessing Raven copied it?"

"How'd you know?" Lyn inquired, turning around to face her crewmembers. "Alexander and I were surprised when she told us she could do it!"

Cassandra gave a light grin. "Well, it's not that surprising to me. You've never seen Raven's skin, have you?"

"Damien has, though I doubt he remembers it," the petite pirate deadpanned. "In my family, we receive tattoos for passing certain milestones in our training. I have the tattoos for Akat, enhanced speed, on my upper arms and Ran Irz, jumping in midair, on my upper legs. I believe I am proficient enough in Bhraf Olurz, which enables me to dodge attacks, to acquire tattoos on my stomach and lower back."

"Oh!" Lyn exclaimed, her hand shooting into the air. "If you teach me how to tattoo, I'll do them for you."

Raven contemplated this for a few moments. "This is acceptable."

"Hey, Lyn," Alexander chimed in. "How about this: when you get good enough, I'll let you give me one as well."

"Thanks, Alexander!" Lyn bounded over to him and wrapped him in a great hug, which caused him to try to break free.

Cassandra laughed and pulled the topless woman off of him before he had a panic attack. "That's certainly unexpected, my friend. And what would your tattoo be?"

"I don't know," he answered. "I just think no pirate should be without a tattoo. Just know that I'm not doing something that covers quite as much skin. Something small."

The pirate captain clapped her hands together. "And that settles it. Changing pace just a bit, I say we get off Reichmann Island and head off to the Grand Line. Any objections?"

Surprisingly, Alexander nodded. "You still have to get Damien back, remember?"

"Don't think I've forgotten our beloved navigator," Cassandra assured him. "I know that that will be a chore, but we're looking at after that. I know you intended to leave without me and with a new crewmember, but I'm thinking we'll go without one."

"Wait, why not?" the alchemist objected. "It makes sense to tackle the Grand Line with more force than we do now."

"And who would you choose?" Cassandra asked.

He sputtered for a moment. "Well, I think we narrowed our choices down to Naga, Deus and Kotel. They are all perfectly reasonable choices, we thought."

Cassandra shook her head. "I already talked to all of them. Kotel wants to stay here and keep up the fight with Zion and Sabbath. Naga was inspired by us and wants to go off and start his own pirate crew. Deus was a good candidate before I made my unfortunate and hugely regrettable decision to not communicate with you. We're still on good terms, but he doesn't want to join the crew. He did say if we ever need help and we're back in West Blue to give him a call, though."

"Outstanding," Alexander grumbled. "The five of us against the Grand Line."

"Hey, don't be so downhearted," Lyn soothed. "We all got some interesting new powers and we can only get better, right? I mean, Damien and Raven should be able to handle anything in the first few islands of the Grand Line and we can always pick up new crewmembers later."

"You're being awfully carefree about something you were so concerned with earlier," Alexander observed.

"That's cuz we didn't have Captain, duh!" Lyn explained. "Now that Captain's back, we can take on anything!"

Cassandra smiled. "I appreciate the thought, Lyn, and I agree. Let's just get back to the _Howling Knave_ and get this all sorted out. Raven, does Damien still have his Baby Den-Den Mushi? No, you would know if he did. I'm sure you can track him down and bring him back. Alexander, Lyn and I will wait in the inn nearest the docks. We're all going to set foot on the _Howling Knave_ together. Raven, leave us some antidote and go find Damien."

Raven dipped her head, placed a small pouch onto the table and sped off. Cassandra blinked in surprise and called the doctor back. When she returned, the pirate captain had a few parting words. "And work on your kicks. I can see you, you know."

The black-clad woman nodded once and departed once more. "Wow!" Lyn exclaimed. "You can see her! That's awesome! Teach me how!"

"I don't think you can," Cassandra admitted. "My eyes have been trained since birth to be sharper than anyone else's. Come on. Let's get moving."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra wiped her lips on the napkin and placed it back on her lap. Lyn was off causing some mayhem or other, so the sniper had taken the opportunity to dine with Alexander. They had chosen quite an expensive establishment, but, with the funds she had stolen from the Reichmann vaults, cost was not an issue. They were done with their meals and were simply left with their glasses of wine.

"What's the legal drinking age on this island, anyway?" Alexander asked, staring into his glass.

"It doesn't have one," Cassandra replied. "The Reichmanns believe that even the poor people should be allowed to do what they want as long as they can pay for it. Of course, alcohol has lasting detrimental effects on youth, which makes them easier to control. Why do you ask?"

"No reason," he dismissed. "So, Captain, what was it like growing up in a family of assassins? Raven isn't very talkative about her history."

"Hellish." She took a fortifying sip of alcohol. "I was trained only to kill. I killed all sorts of people, even innocents. I still have nightmares about them every once in a while. But I had some truly good friends and they kept me sane."

"What about these Moon Sisters you mentioned?"

Cassandra raised an eyebrow. "Where did you hear that term?"

"I hung back after shouting at you and overheard Raven use it," Alexander said. "Add that to the tattoo of a moon on your hand and that's something to remember."

The pirate captain nodded at this. "Clever deduction. First of all, it's a birthmark, not a tattoo. Second, there are seven major assassin families and whether by fate or chance or whatever, the heads all had children or grandchildren within a month of each other. They were all born with birthmarks of the moon in the phase they were born. I was born under the waning gibbous moon and am therefore the oldest. Raven was born under the waxing gibbous moon and is therefore the youngest."

"Wait, Raven is part of this group?" he asked in surprise. "Although I guess that makes sense if she knew about it."

"And back on Winter Isle, you missed meeting Guinevere, or Jennifer as she prefers to be called. I think you'd like her. Her family is actually well-known throughout the world as extremely wealthy nobility, so she's very proper ninety percent of the time."

Alexander looked interested. "And the other ten percent?"

"A complete scoundrel," Cassandra said fondly. "She's the middle child, born under the new moon. She really values the other six of us as sisters because she's an only child. Her lifelong goal, her dream, you might say, is to get all seven of us on one mission together. She also ate a very useful Devil Fruit that enables her to create weapons."

"And are you allowed to be telling me all this?" Alexander inquired. "This seems like pretty sensitive information."

Cassandra shrugged. "I trust you. Plus, I'm no longer an assassin. Those rules no longer apply to me."

"So this is simply a ploy to show me that you're trustworthy once more?" the alchemist asked.

"It is not!" Cassandra shouted, accidentally breaking the stem off her glass.

She immediately realized her mistake when he broke out into a broad grin. "Relax, Captain. I know you'll never ever do something like that again. Damien's gonna give you hell for this time and I'm sure you'll learn your lesson this time."

"And speaking of which…" she trailed off, glancing around the room. "Where are you, Raven?"

Alexander started as the doctor materialized beside him. "How in the hell did you know she was here?"

"All Moon Sisters can sense one another," Cassandra explained. "So what do you have for me, Raven?"

The doctor placed something on the table that drew the attention of both pirates. Cassandra's face fell as she saw it. "He wants a fight from sundown to sunup. He specified that you have to fight back with intent to kill as he will be doing the same. This is a good length of time, as you are nowhere near his level of power and could not fight for longer, and you have the advantage of it being night. He seems to have thought this through quite thoroughly."

"Do it, Captain," Alexander told her. "The ass-kicking you'll get will be his punishment. I guarantee you that he will beat that rule into you and you'll never forget it. That being said, I feel like you should know a couple things."

"No fight without information is a wise one," Raven agreed. "He has regained the use of his left arm."

"He has?" Cassandra exclaimed. "That's fantastic news!"

Alexander nodded. "Due to lack of use, it's still nowhere near as strong as his right arm, but don't let it catch you off-guard. Not as strong as his right arm is still pretty strong. While Damien appears like he doesn't think things through, in combat, he's a genius."

"I know that," the pirate captain interrupted. "What else?"

"You'll have a much easier battle if you don't try to knock him unconscious," Alexander continued. "If you do, he'll switch to pure offense and that would be quite bad for you. Captain, this is a show of trust. He's going to be going at you with everything he has. You need to show that you can survive this and I have faith that you can. Your Devil Fruit should keep you alive, right? Do you stop regenerating after you take a certain amount of damage?"

Cassandra cocked her head to the side in thought. "I'm not really sure. I just get more and more tired the more I have to heal."

"Sun's about to set, Captain," Alexander informed her. "Get going if you want us to walk aboard tomorrow."

The pirate captain nodded, already thinking of ways to take down her powerful navigator. She picked his armored black gauntlet off the table and pressed it to her lips. Tonight was going to be a long night.

* * *

And next chapter will contain what I think will be the final fight scene of this story.


	64. Returning Together

I would have updated sooner, but this website kept giving me a Type 2 Error that refused to let me edit my stories. I had to find a sneaky solution. This chapter isn't betad yet, but it will be.

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Cassandra's legs dangled over the edge of the the ledge, her sniper rifle held in front of her. She had one eye on the distant sun setting behind the horizon and one eye on the scarred navigator roaming through the crowd. She made a note to teach him how to track targets after the battle was over; she knew it would be an incredibly useful skill for him to know. His senses were nowhere near as good as hers, but he would love being able to find someone who didn't care if they were found.

She mentally went over the items she had acquired for the battle. Because she couldn't go back to the _Howling Knave_, she had to buy dark clothing to blend into the shadows, additional knives to throw and a rope that may or may not prove to be helpful. She also had a stockpile a few blocks over in an attic she had broken into earlier. A small part of her hoped that she wouldn't need to use it, but the realistic part of her knew that she would need everything she could gather if she wanted to take down the powerful fighter.

Idle thoughts buzzed around the edge of her consciousness, but she pushed them aside. All of her attention had to be focused on Damien. It was not only required to stay alive, but it would only be fair considering he would be completely focused on her. She would have to put aside everything if she wanted to take him back. As her other nakama had so forcefully reminded her, the Black Glove Pirates came first.

The sun was only a sliver of red on the edge of the world, less than a minute left. That meant a half hour or so before it truly got dark, and this was the time that Damien would have the smallest disadvantage. If she could survive until the darkness, she could use her superior night vision to fight more effectively than he could. With that in mind, she took a deep, cleansing breath and aimed for his neck, one of the more vulnerable points on his body.

The sun vanished from the sky.

"Minerva Manica Nigra."

Most people screamed and sought cover when they heard the gunshot. Somehow, Damien was turning before the bullet left the barrel, his emerald green eyes scanning the rooftops for the source of the bullet. The round slammed into his clavicle, deflecting off into the ground. His glare narrowed as he found her and he bared his teeth in an animalistic snarl. He flicked out all twenty talons and bounded onto a rooftop in a single leap, his wings spreading wide to give him additional upward power. Cassandra was overjoyed to see him use his left arm, though she knew it would mean her job was significantly harder than before. With a loud roar, he leapt off the rooftop towards her, his flaming fist drawn back.

However, she was prepared for him. Having reloaded her rifle before he had started his second jump, she aimed it at the center of his chest and fired. The proximity and the fact that he was in midair didn't give him the ability to counter. While the bullet didn't go through his metal sternum, it did slow him down enough to throw off target. He ended up plunging through the wall below her with a howl of rage. After dealing with the recoil, she strapped the rifle to her back and hopped off the building.

This proved to be a wise decision, as a large ball of fire punched through the stone ledge she had been resting on. She plummeted to the ground and let out a muted grunt as she impacted the stone street. Her right femur cracked as she rolled along the ground and she wasted a few valuable seconds waiting for it to heal. She heard the explosion above her signaling Damien's departure from the building and began sprinting down the street. She was under no delusions that she could outrun her navigator when he could use all four of his limbs, but she might have the agility to avoid him.

She darted around a corner and pressed her back against the wall, hoping to throw him off. Unfortunately for her, he simply cut the corner, sending her flying amid a shower of stone and mortar. Her reflexes kicked in and she landed in a crouching position facing her opponent.

Her hazel eyes widened as she got a good look at the damage he had sustained in the Reichmann Manor assault. While his scars before had been painful to look at, his newer wounds were truly horrifying. His skin was riddled with bullet holes and deep slashes that crisscrossed over old wounds. A Y had been cut in his chest, the hole that Raven had probably used to operate on his lungs. His left arm and pectoral were covered in ropy wounds that looked incredibly like burns, wounds that twisted sinuously across his firm muscle.

"Damn," she muttered to herself in amazement. He had probably taken as many wounds as she could before her healing caused her to pass out. He bounded forward with a guttural roar, his flaming claws whipping dangerously towards her face. Her body reacted before she could think and she found herself slipping into his guard, avoiding the blow. Her elbow smashed into his throat, followed by a knife stabbing into his thigh. As he attempted to grab her, she slipped back out, drawing her pistol as she went.

Seemingly out of nowhere, his left fist lashed out and caught her in the eye. She spiraled backward and tumbled along the street, eventually skidding to a stop. As she shot to her feet, she reflected that her mind knowing Damien had his left arm back and her body knowing it were two completely different things. She felt the painful bruise around her eye fade away and felt relieved that while he had regained the use of the limb, it was nowhere near as powerful as his other limbs.

With that in mind, she took off down the street again. Damien was hot on her heels, a great gout of flame chasing her down the street. She cartwheeled to the side and managed to get a shot off, though unsurprisingly he moved just enough to have it deflect off a metal rib. She ran off down a narrow alleyway, then was struck by an idea. She leapt off of a dumpster and began hopping back and forth, climbing steadily higher into the air.

Her head snapped backwards as she was tackled from behind. She tried to turn about, but Damien had her in a vise grip and had no intentions of letting go until he was ready. She could only wait as they began to fall earthwards, staring helplessly at the stone cobblestones rushing up to meet them.

The feeling of having her face smashed in, her ribs broken and her organs ruptured was something she had experienced once and had rather hoped she wouldn't experience again. However, she knew that many times during her life, especially tonight, she would have to revisit that sensation. She vaguely felt Damien leap off her, but was more focused on allowing her body to knit itself back together. Maybe he would recognize that she needed time to heal before she could continue fighting.

"Diavolo Drago!" Cassandra screamed in pain as the crater he had undoubtedly made was filled with raging fire. Not caring that her bottom ribs weren't in place and most of her teeth hadn't regrown, she scrambled up the sloped side and rolled out of the pit. She wiped the blood from her mouth and leaned against the wall of a building, grimacing in pain as her body regenerated. Her stomach quivered as her internal organs arranged themselves in their proper positions, a truly uncomfortable feeling. The stream of fire off to her left cut off, indicating that Damien had figured out she was no longer in the crater. Gathering her energy, she clambered to her feet and set off at a run.

The sky was truly getting dark and the scales were being tipped more in her favor. However, there was still enough light for Damien to see her and she needed to whittle away that time as best she could. Her eyes falling upon a house, she turned and shot the window several times, shattering the glass panes. She threw herself through and rolled to her feet, her body pushing out the slivers of glass stuck in her skin. A second later, the navigator crashed through the wall, his body wreathed in flame.

She darted into the next room, where an unfortunate family was currently having dinner. She conserved her momentum by sliding underneath the table, then bracing herself on the wall and rebounding into the air. Her spinning kick was caught by Damien's left hand, leaving her open to a strong uppercut to the stomach. She crashed through the ceiling, glad that the wooden timbers were much less painful than the stone street had been. She crouched against the ceiling and pushed off to the side, aiming for the doorway.

Damien gave a roar of anger as she vanished from his line of sight, but she wasted no time savoring her brief respite. She tore down the stairs and swiftly located the kitchen, her reason for entering the house. Her knives were sharp, but she didn't think she could throw them hard enough to penetrate the berserker's thick skin and dense muscles. She scolded herself for not thinking of this earlier, but she hadn't had much time between Raven's news and the sundown to shop. Luckily, most families had a large knife specifically designed for cutting meat.

The navigator entered the room just as she found the butcher knife. She whirled to face him, ready for his assault. He might have gotten better at fighting at Reichmann Manor, but his speed when he wasn't almost unconscious was lower than hers. She used this fact to avoid his punch and bring the knife down on his arm. "Manus Lavernae!"

He howled in pain as the blade bit into his arm and swung his fist to the side, attempting to hit her head. Her enhanced reflexes enabled her to duck under the attack with ease and swing her knife downward. His knee caught her blade, deflecting it off to the side. She dodged back, then darted back in, this time hacking at his side. She managed to score a decent hit, but she couldn't pull the knife out of his flesh quickly enough to avoid a fierce backhand.

She crashed through the wall and through what she realized was the dinner table, scattering food anywhere. Recovering swiftly, she grabbed onto the lamp hanging overhead and leapt up. She used the swinging motion to drive her feet into her pursuer's face. Unfortunately, all she did was push herself farther backwards, having inflicted no damage at all. Grimacing as a tooth wriggled its way into its original position, she threw herself through the broken window and back out onto to street.

She gave a relieved smile as when she saw how dark it was. While it still wasn't true night, Damien would still have a difficult time locating her in the dark. She shot off down the nearest dark alley she could, then hopped onto a windowsill and prayed she blended in with the wall.

Sure enough, the enraged pirate charged right past her, eyes focused on some point down the alleyway. Sighing contentedly at the short break she would get, she began slowly climbing to the rooftop, giving her tired body time to heal. She thought one of her teeth was actually growing back through her gum, which was an uncomfortable feeling, to say the least. Add her still rearranging internal organs and mending bones and it was evident that her body was devoting all her energy to regenerating. She released her sympathetic nervous system, allowing her body to recover more quickly.

When she made it to the top of the building, she collapsed onto the smooth slates. Her chest heaved as she stared up at the sky, truly appreciating being alive. "How does Raven do it?" she wondered aloud. "Furthermore, how did Deus do it?"

A furious roar indicated that Damien had figured out she had eluded him. Exhaling heavily, she sat up and felt around for her weapons. Despite the vigorous jostling she had endured earlier, they were more or less still attached to her body. Climbing to her feet, she thought of the stockpile of weapons she might have to access sooner than she had imagined. Resolving to try to keep herself from going there until at least midnight, she pulled out her pistols and kicked her body into overdrive again.

She raised her eyebrows as the flaming navigator landed on a nearby rooftop, obviously searching for her. She carefully aimed and shot off a couple rounds, pleased with the echoing acoustics of the rooftops to disguise her position. The silenced gunshots were still loud enough to attract Damien's attention. Displaying his uncanny ability to know when the shots were about to hit him and micrododging at the last second, he whirled around, trying to figure out where she was.

Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes roved over her location, but he continued on, evidently unaware of her presence. A guttural howl filled the air and he blazed even more brightly, spitting fireballs in all sorts of random directions. Cassandra forced herself to remain still as a gout of flame that looked vaguely like an animal rushed by her. He abruptly stopped and extinguished all of his flames, and it was only then that the pirate captain realized what he had been doing.

"Shit!" she cursed under her breath, unable to rid her vision of the afterimage of his flames. Her eyes darted about, but no matter where she looked, there was a giant hole in the center of her vision. It was only by hearing his approach that she was able to avoid the punch aimed in her direction. She blinked rapidly in an effort to get rid of the afterimage, but it persisted annoyingly.

"I've got to hand it to you Damien, you thought a lot further ahead than I thought you would," she complimented him, dipping beneath a mighty roundhouse kick. "Dona Angeroniae!"

Damien had no chance to avoid the two pistols shot at point-blank range. His thunderous roar shook the rooftops as the bullets bit into his unprotected stomach, and he curled his wing around to avoid taking further damage. Cassandra turned on her heel and dashed away, looking for an even taller building to climb.

She thanked the gods of life for granting her with the senses to detect Damien's pursuit without having to waste time by looking back. She could smell him getting closer, hear his hands and feet crunching up the roofing tiles. This was how she was able to hear him lunge towards her and avoid him at the last second by falling into a crack between two houses. He careened past her and punched straight through the roof, showing her with broken tiles.

She rolled as she landed on the ground and swiftly exited the narrow alleyway. To her surprise, she found herself staring down the barrels of a handful of rifles held by very firm-looking policemen. Looking back, she supposed they had good reason for interrupting the fight, but she couldn't waste time with them. Damien was going to burst out of the house in a matter of seconds and she needed to get moving.

"Stop in-" was all the chief managed before Cassandra put a bullet through his open mouth. As she expected, Damien emerged from the house via the wall, scattering stone and mortar everywhere. He completely ignored the policemen and threw himself at the sniper, his clawed hand drawn back behind him.

"Scutum Pelloniae!" she shouted, yanking her rope from around her waist. In the blink of an eye, she had a lasso whirling above her head, a target already in her sights. Jumping backward to give herself more time, she snagged a nearby policeman and yanked him into Damien's path. While the force required to stop the navigator was about as much as was required to stop a speeding train, the hapless man did disrupt Damien's attack.

"Fuckin' twat!" the furious pirate bellowed as Cassandra slipped away once more. Cassandra couldn't help but groan as she caught sight of the time on a distant clocktower.

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

"This was not a good idea."

Alexander sighed heavily. The sun's rays had just peeked over the horizon and Raven was already itching to find the other two pirates. He had been up for an hour preparing a mediocre breakfast for the two of them. A steaming plate of pancakes with syrup rested on the table next to an enormous bowl of apples. A freshly-butchered cow lay in a cart in the side alley, guarded by a sleeping Lyn. He and Raven were sitting in the inn's front room, waiting for any sign Cassandra and Damien's return.

"Look, Captain had to deal with Damien one way or another," he explained for what seemed like the hundredth time. "Sure he'll beat the snot out of her, but she'll just regenerate, right?"

"There are undoubtedly limits to Cassandra's regeneration," Raven countered. "And her endurance is not like his. She could not spend an entire night sparring with Lyn, much less a fight to the figurative death that Damien no doubt involved her in. I believe that man can fight for days on end if his wounds are not too severe, even longer if he is willing to sacrifice his life."

The alchemist shook his head. "I'm not debating that. I'm just saying have a little faith in her. She's the smartest person in West Blue; I'm sure she thought of something. Maybe she managed to catch a few z's during the fight."

His eyes narrowed as he noticed Raven wasn't paying attention. She had undoubtedly heard him and processed his sentences, but her gaze was focused on the door to the inn. A wry smile crept across his face as he realized what was going on. "And here she's coming now."

"Do not underestimate your own intelligence, Alexander," the doctor droned, her obsidian stare never leaving the entryway. "You have a keen memory for certain things and a knack for connecting pieces of evidence."

A little startled by the compliment, Alexander nevertheless bowed his head graciously. "Go wake Lyn up. Let's go meet our returning nakama."

Raven dematerialized, leaving him to walk through the door alone. The early morning sunlight filled the street with muted light, but there were no people in sight. He had gotten used to the eeriness of the Reichmann towns, more or less, but it still unnerved him slightly. He heard a loud yawn from behind him and kept himself from turning to the drowsy first mate. "They here yet?" she mumbled semi-coherently.

"Not yet, Lyn," he said. "Raven, can you tell how close she is?"

"The bond does not work that way," she droned, appearing at his side. "Shall I go to her?"

"No, no," he disagreed. "I want to meet both of them at the same time. All of us together."

Minutes dragged by and no sign of the two pirates. Lyn rested her chin on Alexander's shoulder, her right arm draping across his other one. The musician shook her off, but she slowly moved back into the position a moment later. He wriggled away from her again and shot a reproachful look in her direction. She stuck her tongue out at him and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. Alexander resumed staring down the street, only to stiffen as Lyn did it a third time. Whirling about, he planted his hand on the ground and transmuted it into water with a shouted "Eau Magie!"

Lyn wasn't finished. She grabbed hold of the alchemist and dragged him into the water with her. They began tussling with each other, Alexander trying to get out of the hole he had made and Lyn trying to keep him in. The conflict cumulated to the point where Lyn was holding Alexander's head beneath the water and yelling for him to cry uncle.

"They are coming." Three words from Raven was all it took for the first mate to release her hold and burst out of the water. Alexander threw his head back and inhaled deeply, flopping his limbs onto the solid ground. Lyn unceremoniously grabbed him by the back of his jacket and yanked him out, dumping him onto the ground. Alexander's protests died on his lips as he saw the two forms slowly approaching them.

To say they looked like hell would be like saying Lyn was mildly attractive. The pair was hobbling along, arms over each other's shoulders. Most of Captain's clothes hung in loose tatters on her form, one arm wrapped around her chest for modesty. Her visible skin was marred with dark bruises and bloodless cuts and her head lolled from side to side. Damien was covered in numerous wounds that were still oozing sanguine liquid. Unable to restrain themselves, the three non-combatants rushed to their nakama's side.

"What the hell!" Lyn exclaimed. "You didn't have to take it that far!"

Captain nodded gratefully as Alexander shed his wet jacket and hung it around her body. "That was… the agreement. A fight from sundown… to sunup."

"'Cept fer tha' time I wasted lookin' fer yeh," Damien growled, letting his opponent go so Raven could tend to his wounds. "Yeh weren' figh'in' then."

"Come on, Damien!" she said in exasperation. "Do you really think… I could fight you the entire time… nonstop?"

The navigator bared his teeth and shoved her towards the inn. "Wha'ever. Yer still me Cap'n."

Captain nodded, then sank to the ground. Alexander knelt to check on her, only to glance up at Raven with a frown. "She's just sleeping. I thought her fruit would mean she didn't take any injuries."

"It would appear that even her fruit has limits," Raven observed. "This was actually a useful fact to discover now rather than later. I do not know whether her wounds will scar or not, but I believe it would be safe to say they will disappear when she has regained her energy. As for you, Damien, she did quite a lot of damage to you."

He rolled his powerful shoulders dismissively. "She did wha' she said she'd fuckin' do. Fer th' mos' part."

"She has shot you at least a hundred times," Raven droned. "However, it looks like most of the bullets did not penetrate very deeply. Judging by the burns around the bullet holes, it would appear you did that attack again. You cannot keep doing that every time you take this much damage. Your body will destroy itself."

Damien opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. His legs trembled and he staggered to the side, his left hand going to his forehead. "Can' beat me in a fair figh'," he mumbled before faceplanting onto the ground.

Alexander sighed as he stared at the two downed pirates. "Well, that wasn't entirely unexpected. Lyn, help me get Captain back to the room. Raven can fix Damien up and just leave him on the street."

The first mate already had the sniper in a bridal position and was walking back towards the inn. Alexander started off after her, glancing backwards to make sure the doctor was doing her assigned task. Satisfied, he followed Lyn into the building and was pleased to find Captain sleeping on the couch with her head on Lyn's lap. The artist was running her fingers through the weary fighter's blue hair, a contented smile on her lips. Alexander reclined in the chair by the table and idled the time away by polishing his trumpet and playing softly.

Around midday, the pirate captain woke. Most of her wounds had diminished to small marks on her skin, but her bruises were still quite clear. She ambled slowly over to the table, where she sat down and immediately started wolfing down all the food before her. It took her mere minutes to polish off the pancakes and fruit, downing an entire pitcher of water in the process. Alexander brought her some meat and bread from the kitchen, which she swiftly consumed as well. By the time Alexander returned with a third helping of food, she was fast asleep with her head on her empty plate. Chuckling to himself, he lifted her up and carried her back to the couch that Lyn had recently departed from for some unknown destination.

It was late in the afternoon when Captain opened her eyes again. She stretched her arms above her head and gave a wide yawn, not bothering to cover her mouth. Putting her hands to her body, she felt the texture of the black jacket she was wearing and smiled. "Many thanks, Alexander. How long was I out?"

"About nine hours with a food break in the middle," he replied. "I stopped out a bit to get a book to read, but otherwise I've been here the whole time."

"Mmm," she murmured as she got to her feet. She took a good look at herself and realized that aside from Alexander's jacket and her underwear, she was basically naked. "Oh, right. Damien set me on fire more than once during our little fight." Ignoring her general lack of clothes, she strode outside and around the corner of the building.

Alexander grinned with surprise to find Damien reclining on the empty cart, picking his teeth with a talon. He raised his gloved fist in greetings, nearly dislodging Raven from her perch behind him. Lyn was hanging upside down from the edge of the roof above, her orange bangs hanging downward. "How did you know they were here?"

Captain tapped her nose, then smiled at Damien. "Did you have a nice rest?"

"I should be askin' you tha'," he responded good-naturedly. "None o' yer li'le tricks kep' me down fer long. When'd ya buy a fuckin' sho'gun anyway?"

"I didn't think I'd have to bring it out so early," she said, obviously enjoying Alexander and Lyn's looks of amazement. "But after you shoved your hand through my chest, I knew I had to change my tactics."

"Wait, he went through your chest?" Alexander asked incredulously.

Captain opened his jacket enough to show the still fading circle between her breasts. "That took me fifteen minutes of inactivity to recover from. Fortunately, I was hiding out in a house and he couldn't find me."

"Fuckin' pansy," he growled. "If we were in a fuckin' ba'lefield, yeh'd be dead."

"And do you think I'm really stupid enough to fight you in such a place?" she inquired. "Or in a sparring room like where you fought Deus? I'm good, but I'm not that good. As it was, you knocked out about two hundred teeth, broke most of my bones at least once and cost me gallons of blood. And you still had more energy to beat the crap out of me!"

"Ah, yeh'll get over it," he dismissed. "Sides, you nearly fuckin' killed me too."

The sniper scoffed at this. "Oh, please. How many times did I shoot you?"

"There are one hundred and thirteen individual bullet holes. I am guessing you shot the same spot more than once, however."

They all glanced at Raven, who simply stared back at them impassively. "Anyway," Captain resumed, "I'm guessing that at least eighty of those shots hit your bones – no, Raven, I don't need an exact number – my punches and kicks had no effect and I couldn't swing my knives hard enough to penetrate too deeply. Let's compare that what I took and I think you came out the clear winner."

"'A's what I like ta' 'ear," Damien rumbled contentedly. "Still fuckin' tired, though. Been runnin' fer days 'n' shit."

"Yeah, where'd you go?" Lyn piped up.

The navigator shrugged. "Here 'n' there. If I'da been fully rested, yeh wouldn'a stood a fuckin' chance."

"I believe that," Captain assured him. "And if you're tired, and I'm sure we all are too, I think it's time we finally go back to the _Knave_. If I recall correctly, we're only about a thirty minute walk from where we're docked."

"That'll take too long," the artist complained. "C'mon, let's race!"

She took off before anyone could say another word. They all stared at the departing pirate with varying degrees of amusement. "I'm pretty sure the docks are in that direction," Alexander said eventually, pointing off to his left. "Should we tell her?"

Captain shook her head. "Let her burn some energy first. Raven, be a dear and fetch her in about fifteen, twenty minutes. The rest of us will meet you at the ship."

The black-clad doctor dipper her head once and vanished. Alexander straightened his shirt and bowed graciously to his captain. "After you."

Captain chuckled lightly and started off in the direction of the docks. Alexander fell into step on her right while Damien lumbered behind her to her left. The berserker seemed lost in his own thoughts, leaving the other two to strike up a friendly conversation. The topic eventually maneuvered around to Devil Fruits, which both of the talkers were personally invested in. Alexander enjoyed talking about using his powers to surprise his opponents, though he was still a little peeved that his captain had surprised her crewmembers with hers. Captain offered criticisms about how he used his alchemy in combat and made suggestions about how to improve his fighting style. This attracted the interest of Damien, who proceeded to make some surprisingly valid points about fighting a Devil Fruit User.

The time passed by quickly and they were walking on the docks before they knew it, all of them pleased to see their ship still intact. Barely a minute had elapsed before Lyn's pounding footsteps could be heard on the wooden planks and Raven materialized beside the three pirates. After making sure they were all ready to step aboard as one, Captain turned to the ship. "Well, my nakama, we have endured much on this island. We're not departing right now, but we are taking up residence here once more. Ready to go?"

"Aye!" Lyn, Alexander and Damien shouted at once. Captain and Alexander strolled up the gangplank while Damien and Lyn leapt aboard and Raven flitted from the docks to the railing. Alexander felt a wave of relief settle into his body as he set foot aboard the _Howling Knave_. It was good to be home.

His feeling of wellbeing was brief, however. Captain had drawn a pistol in the blink of an eye and was holding up one hand for stillness. She jerked her head towards the galley, her hazel eyes hard. As stealthily as she could, she made her way over to the kitchen door and flattened herself against the wall. Slowly, she extended her free hand and rapped her knuckles on the door.

"I told you already, they're not here!" came a voice from inside. "I'm not robbing the ship. I'm just waiting for them."

Alexander's eyes widened as he heard that voice. There was no way it would be coming from the galley. But then, before a few days ago, there was no way that Captain would have returned either.

The sniper kicked open the door and aimed her pistol at the intruder, a dark snarl working its way across her face. "What are you doing here, Avarice?"

* * *

Believe it or not, this ending was almost identical to the original draft. Though in the original draft, Avarice comes much earlier. It's better this way


	65. Prepared to Leave

I'm rushing this because I want it done by next Tuesday. Fingers crossed on that one.

* * *

The elementalist had his hands up and palms out to show he wasn't holding anything he could use to make his natural armor. Cassandra slowly advanced on him, keeping her pistol steady. She maneuvered her way around the table and listened to the rustling behind her as her nakama entered the galley.

"Isn't this a warm welcome," Avarice said dryly. "I see Lust, Wrath and Sloth. I'm not going to bother asking where the-"

He was cut off as a gloved hand clapped over his mouth and a silver blade was pressed against his throat. "I'm going to give you ten seconds to explain yourself," Cassandra growled. "Or else my friend will slit your throat. I wouldn't waste any time with false pleasantries. Just get straight to the point."

Raven removed her hand from his face, leaving the purple-clad man free to speak. "I want to join your crew."

Cassandra waited eight more seconds for the rest of the explanation, but he was apparently finished speaking. She moved forward until her pistol was pressed between his eyes. "And why would one such as yourself join a pirate crew? What possible reason would the prince of the mountain, heir to a bandit throne, have to join this crew in particular? What are you playing at, Morgan Zematsal?"

She lifted his hood, revealing the rest of his head. He shared his father's dirty blond hair and pale skin, but only she and Raven could see the family resemblance. What everyone did see was the golden band that vanished into his hair, the bright purple amethyst shaped into a triangle that rose above his forehead. The crown was probably worth as much as most of his jewelry put together, and that was saying a lot.

"Zematsal?" Alexander chimed in. "Isn't he the one that Cain was looking for?"

"That's undoubtedly why Cain is waiting in your quarters," Cassandra informed him. "But why us? Your memory might have been jarred in your fall from Reichmann Manor, but certainly you recall attacking Alexander, don't you?"

"Oh, so his name is Alexander?" Lightly freckled cheeks dimpled as he gave a disarming grin. "Pleased to meet you."

"Hey," she snapped, hitting him with her pistol. "Don't change the subject. You attacked him, did you not?"

Morgan licked his lips, evidently realizing he had no other option. "Well, I wasn't attacking him specifically."

"But you attacked him," Cassandra pressed.

"I did cause him some physical injury, yes," he allowed.

The pirate captain gave a cruel grin. "And do you remember our little talk before the battle?"

"You said that if anything happened to Sloth, Alexander, you'd kill me," he responded smoothly. "However, here I stand, alive and-"

Cassandra casually shot his left hand, spraying blood against the wall as he shouted in surprise and pain. Returning the pistol to his forehead before he could comfort the wounded appendage, her grin widened slightly. "I am curious. You came here, remembering my words, and you have the audacity to ask to join my crew?"

"Either yer balls're almos' as big as mine 'r yer a cuntin' dumbass," Damien growled, vulgarly summarizing everyone's thoughts.

The elementalist gritted his teeth and glared at the scarred navigator. "Be quiet while your supe-"

He stopped as Cassandra hit him in the head with her pistol again. "Okay, now I'm absolutely positive it's the second one, because only a man with a death wish would have finished that sentence. So, tell me why I, the future Pirate Queen, should take you, a man who cannot keep to his word, a threat to the people around him, an imbecile who cannot see that, on the seas, might is worth as much as gold?"

"A few things," he hissed, glancing at the blood staining his fine silks. "One, I have a Log Pose. You need one of those to navigate the Grand Line."

"Again, not a factor," Cassandra said. "What's stopping me from killing you and taking the Log Pose?"

He gave a dark smirk. "Because Cain has the Log Pose. You don't have anything against him, do you? Even if you wanted to kill him, I doubt you could before he crushes it."

"On an island this close to the Grand Line, there are always Log Poses floating around on the black market," the sniper informed him. "So still, not good enough."

"I'll be a useful fighter," he said quickly. "You'll need them in the Grand Line. A Devil Fruit User is worth two non-users when it comes to combat."

Cassandra blinked at this. That was probably the stupidest thing he had said so far, and he had said some pretty stupid things. Morgan Zematsal was evidently far more clueless than she had imagined. "I count two non-users who could annihilate you before I finish this sentence. Got anything else?"

"Cain!" he shouted. "If I join, Cain will too! Surely you know of his uses by now."

The pirate captain contemplated his newest argument. "That's better, but still not good enough. You know, you're making a terrible case for yourself. I'm actually considering dragging your sorry ass back with your daddy and letting him teach you a thing or two about life."

His eyes widened, showing the colors swirling in his irides. "Don't make me go back. I ran away for a reason and I'm not going back there until I accomplish my dream."

Silence. Cassandra's grin morphed from cruel to intrigued and she lowered her pistol slightly. "Better, Morgan. Much better. And what might this dream be?"

Morgan looked surprised to have the weapon away from his face. Not wishing to waste the opportunity, he explained. "I actually have two. One is to be the richest man in the world. The second is to grow up into a leader worthy of ruling all of Winter Isle."

Cassandra nodded her head pensively, mulling over this information. "That's good. You should have a dream that drives you. I think it's important to life and something even my own nakama have trouble with at the moment." Holstering her pistol, she turned and moved out of the galley. As she departed, she rested her hand on Damien's shoulder and murmured into his ear, "Throw him into the sea."

She didn't need to see him to know he was giving his best feral grin. She relished the shouts of surprise coming from behind him and walked into the men's quarters, leaning casually on the doorframe. Cain looked up at her arrival and a look of surprise spread across his features. "Cassandra! How nice to see you're alive!"

"Well, I am," she assured him. "And I would advise you going outside right… about…" She waited until she heard a loud splash from behind her. "Now."

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"I've heard that Devil Fruit users can't swim" she said offhandedly.

His bewilderment was evident on his face, though it vanished when the elementalist managed to keep his head above water long enough to shout, "Help, Cain!"

In an instant, the bodyguard opened up the poop deck and burst out, eyes zipping around to locate his charge. The only things visible were the bubbles of air reaching the surface, but this was indication enough for Cain. He dove into the water, disappearing instantly. Cassandra leaned on the railing beside Damien, eyeing the scene with detached amusement.

A moment or two later, the two men breached the waters, audibly drawing in gasps of air. The bandit prince clung tightly to his bodyguard and glared up at the two pirates. "What the hell was that for, you crazy witch!"

"Th' fuck yeh talkin' abou'?" Damien snarled. "Yer fuckin' lucky y' ain' breathin' through a fuckin' 'ole in yer neck. Y' attack Songbird an' 'spec' ta get away wit' it? Get outa 'ere, cocksnot, 'r I might 'ave t' disobey Cap'n's orders an' do more'n dunkin' ya."

"I'm not talking to you!" Morgan snapped. "I'm talking to your Captain!"

"Oh, I think you'll find that Damien is quite good at vocalizing the general sentiments of the crew," Cassandra stated. "He's kind of like our collective brutal subconscious. You want our collective nice subconscious, talk to Lyn. However, my dear navigator's right on target now." She rested her head on his shoulder and they both gave their fiercest grins. "Now get out of my sight before he rips out your fucking heart."

Cain clambered onto the docks and cautiously set his master down, checking to make sure he was all right. Shaking water from his sodden silks, the richly-clad man stalked off, casting one last dark look in the _Knave_'s direction. Damien gave a loud laugh, wrapping his arm around his captain's shoulders. "Nice to 'ave you back, Cap'n. Remember, you die again an' Ah'll fuckin' drag you back meself."

"I'm gonna be Queen of the Pirates," she reminded him, her own arm circling around his torso. "I'm not dying until then."

"And I'm gonna see the whoooole world!" Lyn cried, tackling them with her own embrace.

If it weren't for Damien's solidity, Cassandra would have been knocked over. She grabbed the first mate with her other arm and roughly brought her into a strong headlock. "And you are just as valuable to the crew as I am. I promise I'll never put you through something like that ever again."

Raven appeared before them, bobbing as she continually kicked off of midair. "I did as you requested."

She held out a transparent globe with a needle suspended in it, a leather strap with a buckle on the end attached to the bottom. Cassandra gave a pleased smile as she took the device and held it up for the crew to see. "What is it?" Lyn inquired, tapping it lightly with her fingernail.

"That's a Log Pose!" Alexander exclaimed before anyone else could speak. "I don't know how they work, but I was told it's the only way you can navigate the Grand Line. Wherever did you get one?"

The captain's smile widened. "I had our darling doctor steal it from Cain when he dove overboard. He's a good man, but he can get a bit too focused when it comes to guarding Zematsal. This is actually the reason why we needed to stay. Now that we have one, we can take off."

"What about food?" the alchemist asked. "I never did get to finish that shopping trip."

"This is a good point," Cassandra admitted. "How about this: you, Lyn and I will go out for one last meal on Reichmann Island. During this time, Raven and Damien will get supplies. We'll meet back here at midnight, sleep, then set off at dawn. Sound good?"

Alexander frowned. "It's getting pretty late, Captain. Where are they going to get supplies?"

"Why, the black market, of course," she responded. "Where else are they going to get uncontaminated food?"

The musician accepted this answer and turned on the heel of his foot. "At least allow us to shower before we dine. I'll never get these stains out of this suit. I think it's time to say goodbye to this old thing."

"Yeah, how do you have so many suits anyhow?" Lyn chimed in. "I've never seen you get any."

"I got some on Summer Isle," he informed her as he retreated into the men's quarters. "Though I do say I need some more of them. Perhaps that will be something I can get done on the first island of the Grand Line."

Lyn patiently waited until the door was closed before contorting her face into a disgusted expression. "Why does he only wear suits? It's so boring seeing the same thing every day."

"Take that up with him," Cassandra shot back, then remembering that she was only wearing Alexander's jacket, underpants and a pair of trousers donated by the innkeeper. "And he's right, we all need a wash. Damien, since I know you're going to wander off, try to stay near the docks. Take a dunk, while you're at it. You smell to high heaven. Raven will come get you when it's time."

The navigator leapt off the boat and landed on the distant stone street, waving his hand as he departed. Lyn bounced up and down in excitement, raising her arm in the air. "Oh, I get to shower first!"

"I just fought to get our nakama back," Cassandra objected. "I get to shower first. Besides, I'm the captain."

Lyn crossed her arms and pouted cutely. "No fair! I wanna take a shower now!"

"Ordinarily, I'd let you," the sniper told her. "But right now I'm absolutely filthy and I can't stand it. I am going first and that's that."

She almost made it to the women's quarters before Lyn came up with another idea. "How about if we take a shower together?"

"Not a chance," Cassandra said shortly as she entered the bedroom.

"Don't be such a prude," Lyn scolded, following her inside. "We've bathed together before!"

"Before, we were in a public bath," Cassandra reminded her. "There's not enough room in the shower for both of us."

Lyn rolled her eyes expressively. "Of course there is. I bet you could fit three people in there!"

"Only three people that were squashed against each other," Cassandra corrected her, discarding Alexander's jacket and sliding off the pants. "And I don't think they'd get clean."

"That's why we're only doing it with two people." Lyn's tone of voice indicated her complete belief in her words. "It's not like we're getting Raven to take a shower with us. Hey, Raven, when do you shower anyway?"

"Three a.m.," the former assassin droned, speeding into the room and closing the door behind her.

"For the last time, Lyn, I am not showering with you! That's final!" Cassandra shouted. She had pulled off her remaining clothing by now and was striding into the bathroom, fully intent on shutting the door behind her. However, Lyn somehow stripped her own clothing off in a fraction of a second and dove forward to reach the door first. Cassandra shoved the artist to the side, sending her crashing into closet. Lyn leapt out a moment later, her arms spread wide.

Cassandra was in no mood to have her luxury delayed any longer. She raised her foot and executed a strong axe kick, driving Lyn into the floor. Reaching into the closet, she grabbed her rope and had the first mate tied up in a matter of seconds. She spent a few moments making sure her knots would hold, then got off the incapacitated woman and nodded her head in satisfaction. "Now let me take my shower."

"This isn't over, Captain!" Lyn yelled dramatically. "I will avenge my fallen comrade!"

The pirate captain shook her head and walked into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind her. She stepped into the shower and turned it on, groaning in ecstasy as the hot water ran over her body. She didn't question why the water was instantly hot, but rather accepted it as a perk of being captain, even though the two weren't logically connected. Running her fingers through her hair, she could practically feel all of the island's misfortunes draining away from her. She glanced down at her chest, pleased to see that even Damien's attack was smoothing over to her regular skin once more.

A light rapping on the porthole beside the shower disrupted her soothing wash. Sticking out her head from behind the shower curtain, she wiped the condensation off the window to see Raven hanging upside down. Wondering what the doctor wanted, she undid the latch and pulled the circle open. "What's the matter?"

"Undrugged food cannot be obtained in the black market," Raven murmured.

"I know that," Cassandra hissed, keeping her voice low so Lyn wouldn't overhear. "But I didn't want them to know you and Damien are going to be raiding ships."

Raven blinked at this. "We are going to be stealing food?"

"We are pirates," the pirate captain snapped. "We're supposed to take what we want, sometimes. This is one of those times where engaging in such activities is necessary. Look, just try to find any shipments of food that have arrived in the last day or so. Then, before midnight, get that food over to our ship. Damien will do the heavy lifting and you'll take care of the guards. I want this to be a low-profile mission, get in and out. We don't need that much food, only about a week's worth to get to the first island in the Grand Line."

"If it is what pirates are supposed to do, why are you hiding it from Alexander and Lyn?" Raven asked.

"Because we're supposed to be good pirates, not thieving ones," Cassandra said. "Besides I'm not hiding it from them. I'm just leaving them out of the loop."

The doctor's empty gaze bored into her own. "Do not make rash assumptions, Cassandra. Remember what they have been trying to teach you."

"Don't tell me what to do." Cassandra's voice was rising. "I am the captain of this crew and what I say-"

She could see Raven's arm move, but her muscles couldn't react quickly enough to do anything. Something shiny and sharp plunged into her neck, which she quickly identified as a syringe. Swatting Raven's hand aside, she staggered back into the shower clutching the injection site.

It felt like when she had stood her ground against Tolstoy Reichmann. A thunderstorm was raging inside her blood vessels, lightning flashing inside her arteries, icy rain in her veins. The feeling soon reached her heart, which seemed about to explode from the immense energy. She stumbled out of the shower and hit the ground with a wet smack, barely managing to move despite the energy fueling her limbs. Whenever she tried to move, her body overcompensated, flinging the limb much farther than she intended. Only by merely twitching her body parts was she able to coordinate, and even that was largely unsuccessful. After figuring out approximately how much input she needed to move her limbs a certain distance, she crawled desperately out of the room, trying to find a knife to use to get this feeling out of her body.

"Dear spirits, Captain, what happened to you?" Lyn exclaimed, abandoning her attempts to remove the restricting rope binding her.

Cassandra looked down to see what she identified as her blood vessels swollen and black, plainly visible against her skin. "Raven…" was all she managed before the feeling spread to every part of her body and she crumpled to the ground, spasms wracking her body.

"Your eyes…" the first mate breathed in wonder. "The whites are black! You look like a zombie!"

"Not… funny…" Cassandra growled, slowly regaining control. The black lines on her arms were fading slightly, indicating that her body was fighting back, but it wasn't going away fast enough. Without warning, she was pressed into the ground, her limbs flying about in surprise. A silver knife embedded itself before her eyes and she turned her gaze upwards to identify its source.

"The seven assassin families all stem from a common ancestor and all of them have their own body enhancements." It might have been the sniper's imagination, but Raven's voice sounded marginally colder than usual. "My family develops the ability to enhance our bodies quite similar to yours. However, unlike yours, our development takes place over decades. To speed up this process, the eldest family member donates his enhanced blood to give his progeny an earlier chance to experience the feeling. Once our bodies have gotten used to this, we start producing this black blood as an automatic response to combat situations."

Lyn's eyes sparkled despite her compromising position. "That's so cool!"

"It also represses emotions." Raven leaned forward, digging her feet into Cassandra's back. "Do you have any idea why I would need to repress any emotions?"

"I… got it…" Cassandra gasped. "Now… get rid of it!"

"It seems you have not learned your lesson yet," the black-clad woman droned. "Lyn sharing her memories was not simply to inform you of what happened. Fighting with Damien was not simply for him to rejoin the crew. You were supposed to learn that we will accept you, no matter what. Now, are you prepared for what to do next?"

Cassandra nodded furiously, just wishing for the feeling to subside. The petite woman used the knife to release Lyn's bonds, then got to her feet and looked at the bathroom. "Bring her into the bathtub, Lyn."

The first mate did as she was bidden, obviously confused. She deposited her twitching captain into the porcelain basin and retreated to a safe distance. Raven appeared on the rim of the tub, the knife clenched in her fist. "This will hurt, but you will heal quickly."

Cassandra jerked as the blade embedded itself in her chest up to the hilt, crying out in pain. When the doctor pulled the knife out, Cassandra's abnormally fast heartbeat drove the blood out of her body in small geysers. Although the blood was its usual consistency, it was as black as tar and smelled unusually acidic. The wound swiftly closed, prompting Raven to stab her again and again. The black fluid splashed all across the shower curtain and wall tiles, somehow missing Raven entirely.

The pirate captain nearly passed out from the pain, but she forced herself to stay conscious. The black lines on her skin were receding, both because the blood was leaving her body and because her Devil Fruit was fighting back. At the first spurt of red blood, Raven ceased her attack and turned the shower on. Cassandra clutched at her chest, feeling the bloody skin beneath her fingers. She slumped against the smooth porcelain, letting the hot water wash her body clean.

"What was that?" Lyn asked, a frightened note in her voice.

Cassandra rested her head on the edge of the bathtub, staring at the scared woman with unaltered eyes. "That was my punishment for lying to you."

"Oh, okay!" Lyn chirped, her countenance changing in the blink of an eye. A mischievous grin spread across her face as she leapt into the bathtub, landing heavily on her captain. "Now we need to get you cleaned off!"

"No!" Cassandra protested, adopting a look of mock horror. "No, Lyn! Raven, help me!"

"Think of this as an extension of your punishment." The doctor sped out of the room before Cassandra could say a word.

_Well, that was unexpected,_ the sniper mused as she gave up fighting Lyn and allowing the energetic woman to clean her body. The small space did make it quite awkward, especially since Lyn kept pressing her naked body against Cassandra's without noticing the captain's uncomfortable squirming, but soon the two women were clean and getting dressed in their room.

When they were suitably clothed, they both exited the women's quarters to see that Alexander was already waiting for them on the poop deck, playing a tune on his trumpet to pass the time. He looked across the main deck and ceased his music, his hand falling to his side. "You look great, Captain."

Cassandra looked at herself in confusion. She was wearing more or less what she usually wore: red boots, blue jeans, red T-shirt, white cowboy hat. She did have four pistols instead of two and she had managed to keep hold of the black and multi-colored overshirt Lyn had bought for her, but otherwise she was normal. "Thanks?" she ventured.

"Hey!" Lyn shouted. "What about me?"

"You're fine too," Alexander said, trying not to focus on the artist's revealing clothing. "So, are we ready to go?"

The pirate captain glanced to the side, where Raven was staring intently back at her. "There's been a change of plans. See, there wasn't any food on the black market like I thought, so it looks like we'll have to steal from any merchant ships that are docked here."

Their reactions were nothing like what she was expecting. Alexander gave an accepting nod while Lyn began bouncing around and chanting, "We're gonna be raiding, we're gonna be raiding…"

"What's the matter?" the alchemist inquired when he saw her look of bewilderment.

"I just didn't think you'd be so… compliant in stealing from others," Cassandra admitted.

Alexander gave a low chuckle and rested his hand on his hip. "Captain, we're pirates. I never thought that there wouldn't be times where we need to take what we want and have a grand time doing it. But why merchant ships? Why do the Reichmanns need fresh food when they have the drugs?"

"Well, the Reichmanns don't actually want to be stuck on the island," Cassandra explained. "They want to be able to travel when they want. They just don't want their citizens to have the same privilege."

"And we're totally okay with stealing from people who deserve it!" Lyn yelled, glomping onto the pirate captain. "Aren't we, Alexander?"

"Let's take what we need and destroy the rest," he agreed, his grin darkening somewhat. "Let's see how they like being forced to endure what their people must."

"Now that's what I like to hear," Cassandra said. "Unfortunately, we do need someone to stay on the ship and that person will have to be you, Alexander." She raised her hand as the musician began to object. "Look, like it or not, you're the best lookout for this. We'll still be on the docks, so you can sound the alarm if anything happens. One trumpet blasts and Raven will be there in five seconds. Two and I will be less than a minute behind. Damien and Lyn, being the two strongest crewmembers we have, will be the ones carrying our loot back to the _Knave_. We'll strike at midnight and leave during high tide an hour or so later."

"Night sailing?" Alexander seemed unsure about this. "That's pretty dangerous, Captain, even with Damien at the helm."

"We're not going to spend another night on this island," the sniper insisted. "We've already spent over two weeks here and I can't stand it. Now, what do you want to do for the next six hours?"

Silence fell upon the deck, laying thick until Alexander broke it. "How about a bar? That way, even Damien would be interested in joining us. It'd be nice to spend our last times in West Blue having fun."

"That settles it," Cassandra stated resolutely. "Raven, he can't have gotten far, so. Track him down and let's meet at the best bar in town. Remember, we don't want to get completely drunk. We're just aiming to have a good time before we leave."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra sighed as she walked along the docks towards the ship Raven had found. Damien was striding on her left, a content smile plastered on his face. He had practiced his tried and true method of acquiring free alcohol: challenging the patrons to a drinking contest. This time, he had consumed enough liquor to kill several men due to alcohol poisoning. In fact, the sniper wasn't sure some of the men who had taken him up on his challenge hadn't passed away this night.

Her other crewmembers were only slightly better. Alexander had gotten tipsy, which was reasonable of him, but he was the designated lookout and she wasn't sure he was completely up to it. The chances of assault on the ship were slim, but she still didn't want to take the chance. Lyn had gotten drunk enough to depart the bar in higher spirits than usual, which was saying a lot, with Raven following dutifully behind her. When Cassandra had last seen the woman, she was holding a gargantuan paintbrush and was busy painting over the buildings beside the docks. Raven, of course, was perfectly sober.

The pirate captain herself was feeling buzzed, her seastone ring preventing her body from effectively fighting off the detrimental effects of the alcohol. Her senses were slightly muted, which was disorienting for her. She didn't complain about this, however, as she realized that this was how most humans viewed the world. She settled for walking in a mostly straight line towards their destination, her hand on Damien's shoulder for balance.

They eventually made it over to the large merchant ship, which could have easily held the body of the _Howling Knave_ inside its hull. Cassandra didn't struggle as Damien grabbed her collar and leapt high into the air, landing heavily on the main deck. Thanking him, she strode towards the entrance to the cargo bay, only wavering in her step once. However, something caught her attention off to the side that puzzled her slightly fuzzy mind.

"What the hell?" she said aloud, walking over to the object. It turned out to be the body of a man simply lying down on the deck. She poked him with her finger and, upon receiving no response, took off one of her gloves to check for a pulse. There was none. She rolled him over to check for the cause of his death and was greatly surprised when his head lolled backwards, exposing the hole in his neck. While this was a perfectly good cause of death, there was something that raised her confusion even more. Or rather, the absence of something. "Where's all the blood?"

"Ah?" Damien grunted, coming over to peer over her shoulder.

"He was stabbed in the neck." She gestured helpfully to reinforce her observation. "There should be blood."

Damien, as perplexed as she was, sat back on his haunches. He was no stranger to killing, and almost everything that he had killed had died from exsanguination. The lack of crimson staining the nearby area was truly puzzling. "The fuck?"

"Look, there's another one," Cassandra pointed out, wracking her brain in search for a solution. "I think they were the guards. Whoever did this somehow sucked all the blood out of… their…"

She trailed off as she realized the most probable cause of the mystery. "What is it?" Damien growled.

"That bastard," Cassandra marveled, standing up and staring at something below the deck of the ship. "That sneaky bastard."

"You don' tell me an' I'mma wring yer fuckin' neck," Damien threatened, detesting being left out of the loop.

"Can you think of anyone who draws on something, then makes it vanish into thin air when he's done?" the pirate captain asked.

Damien shook his head.

"Say, anyone who uses it in combat?"

Damien wasn't enjoying this game.

"Anyone with a Devil Fruit that we know?"

His hand shot out, gripping her neck tightly as he dragged her towards him. "I ain' in the mood t' play around, Cap'n. Now fuckin' tell me or I'll…" He paused. Ignoring the hand clenched around her throat, Cassandra rather enjoyed watching the pieces falling into place in the navigator's mind. "Tha' royal cocksnot."

"That's right," she said. "Morgan Zematsal."

"Did someone call my name?" a voice said from belowdeck.

The two pirates turned to the center of the deck, where the large square hatch was being pushed aside by a very recognizable large bodyguard. Cain poked his head through the hole and grinned when his eyes fell upon them. "Oh, it's you two."

"Who two?" came the bandit prince's irate voice. "Cain, lift me up so I can see."

The massive man obliged and, soon, Morgan was stepping onto the deck, a large crate held over one shoulder. "Ah, Cassandra. Just the woman I wanted to see. Since our last negotiations didn't work out so well, I've prepared an offering for you that I think you'll find quite pleasing. Together, Cain and I have gathered enough food to last you for a few weeks, certainly enough time to go to the Grand Line."

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "And what, exactly, is stopping Damien and I from knocking you out and taking the food anyway? I'm sure you've noticed that's not all we've taken."

Morgan nodded, a remorseful expression on his face. "Yes, the Log Pose was quite unfortunate. But still, can you not grant us mercy this one time?"

The pirate captain swaggered towards him, her eyes blurring for an instant as she tried to focus on him. "Let's cut the bullshit, Zematsal. What is the reason that you want to join my crew so badly? Ah," she cut in before he could say a word. "I already know one of them. I'm a mind reader of sorts. I just want to see if you can be honest with me."

"Well…" He hesitated, deciding whether revealing his true intentions was worth the risk. "There are two reasons that directly relate to my two dreams. I want to be the richest man in the world and I'd like to have access to the man who can turn anything into gold."

"Ha!" Cassandra shouted triumphantly. "I knew it! And the other?"

"You are apparently quite a skilled leader, fearless, devious and caring," he praised. "And I was wondering if you might be able to teach me a thing or two."

"Morgan," she began. "I'm honored that you would view me in such a light. I like that you have dreams; that's basically a requirement to join my crew. One or two of my nakama have trouble with that, but we're working on it. You're not bad in a fight and Cain is already accepted as an honorary Black Glove Pirate. But let's be frank. You attacked Alexander and that has consequences. Now, I'm tempted to see if you could last from sundown to sunup fighting Damien, but I know for a fact you wouldn't last ten minutes.

"Fortunately, you have caught me at a good time. I am slightly drunk and am feeling more generous than I normally would. You can join my crew, but there will be four conditions. Do you accept these conditions?"

The elementalist looked puzzled at this. "You haven't told them to me."

Cassandra gave a devilish grin. "One of the conditions is that you have to accept the other three conditions without complaint even though I can't tell you the other conditions yet. Don't worry; I am not an overly cruel person. The conditions will be fair."

Morgan mulled this over, then gritted his teeth and nodded. "I agree."

"Outstanding," Cassandra said. "The second condition is that you have to help us carry the supplies back to the _Knave_."

The bandit prince looked surprised at this. "That's reasonable enough. Come, Cain. I think we had enough time before you got here to separate out the correct amount of supplies."

"That makes life even better," Cassandra told him cheerfully. "I believe you know the way to the ship from here?"

"I think so..." Morgan muttered uncertainly.

"Race ya there!" Cassandra reacted the moment she perceived something speeding in her direction, but her diminished senses perceived it entirely too late. Damien's hand once more grabbed the back of her shirt and she was flung onto the navigator's back. Instinctively knowing what he was going to do, she seized two handfuls of dreadlocks and planted her feet on his back. Sure enough, he bounded off the ship and hit the ground on all fours. He took off down the docks, spraying passersby with wooden slivers he gouged out of the planks. His mad laughter filled the air and she couldn't help joining in. It seemed unreal that less than twenty-four hours before, they had been actively trying to kill each other.

They reached the _Howling Knave_ in record time, concluding with Damien leaping onto the mast and digging in all twenty talons. Yanking out his left arm, he turned to face the island and howled at the top of his lungs. Cassandra didn't know whether she was drunk, imagining things or if he was managing to channel souls, but he sounded for all the world like a pack of animals barking at the moon. She howled right alongside him, shooting off a few rounds of her pistol for emphasis. Down below, she saw a small figure wave something as big as it was and shout something as well. She squinted to find out what it was, but soon remembered that it was probably Lyn. Disentangling herself from the mildly inebriated berserker, she dropped to the deck.

She didn't at all expect to land square on the sleeping musician resting against the mast. She immediately got off him and checked to see if he was all right. Alexander, who had been peacefully slumbering, was sitting up and nursing his injured stomach. "What was that for, Captain?" he yelled.

"The hell do you mean?" she yelled back. "Why the hell were you asleep?"

Alexander spluttered as he tried to come up with an answer. Cassandra bopped him in the head and stood up as a large shape lumbered out of the darkness. "Supplies brought as instructed," Morgan said haughtily.

The alchemist's eyes widened as he glanced overboard. "Why are they here?"

"I invited them onto the crew under a few conditions," Cassandra replied airily. "Don't worry, though. I'm sure they'll find this next one a bit difficult."

She walked over to the railing and looked at the two bandits with a cunning gleam in her eye. "Now put them onto the deck. Don't worry about putting them away; we'll do that ourselves. And do me a favor and get Lyn over here. That's not a condition, but something I'd really appreciate."

The pair obediently complied, the massive fighter placing the crates onto the ship while the prince went to fetch the drunk first mate. They reconvened a moment later, the prince gently leading Lyn forward as she giggled merrily on her shoulder. Upon seeing her captain, she raced up the gangplank and tripped, tumbling across the deck. She came to a stop on her back, still laughing happily. "Captain! Captain! Take a look at what I did!"

"In a minute," Cassandra assured her. "Now, my prospective crewmembers, it's time for the third condition. I don't know if you've noticed, but all of my crewmembers wear black gloves. You two must also get black gloves."

Morgan stared at her. "Just get black gloves?" he repeated.

"Yes," Cassandra stated. "Now, we're about to take off, so I think you might want to get a move on."

The two bandits looked at each other, then sprinted away, obviously hoping to get the piece of clothing as quickly as possible.

"It is time to go," the pirate captain said with a smile. "Damien, get over there and give the ship a push! Lyn... stay here! Raven, unfurl the sails! I'll man the helm for a bit just to get out of here! We're leaving Reichmann Island right this minute!"

"Aye!" came the wholehearted agreement of her nakama.

Cassandra raced to the poop deck and stood behind the wheel, staring out over the port. The last thing she cared to remember about Reichmann Island was the giant mural Lyn had painted on the houses overlooking the docks. It showed all five pirates, sitting around the galley table, raising their glasses to each other. It was a fine parting image.

* * *

The story may end, but the adventure will continue.


	66. To the Grand Line

Annd here it is, the last chapter of the Black Glove Pirates. Enjoy!

* * *

"Captain, you're gonna want to take a look at this."

Cassandra ignored the well-dressed pirate. This was her relaxing time and she did not want to be disturbed. She was lying on a towel on the forecastle deck, enjoying the sun's warming rays soaking into her skin. The bikini she borrowed from Lyn covered the least amount of skin, allowing her to savor the weather. It would probably be the last bit of stable weather they would be experiencing for a while and she wanted to make the most of it.

This was why she was lying on her stomach, a pirating book propped open on the deck in front of her and an apple in one of her bare hands. She did not want to move from this position for a long time.

"Captain?" Alexander called again from the crow's nest.

"Unless my father is wearing a ballerina's tutu while dancing on a dolphin, I don't give a crap," she responded loudly.

"How about a fleet of battleships?" he asked.

The sniper rested her forehead on the pages. "Not my father in a tutu. How far away are they?"

There was a short pause while he estimated the distance between the _Howling Knave_ and the approaching armada. "Three leagues, give or take. They look like they're catching up."

Cassandra sighed and twisted around. "Damien! Up for a little training?"

"'M trainin' righ' now." The navigator didn't cease the pushups he was doing on the main yard, his legs sticking horizontally out into midair. Lyn was sitting on his feet, drawing something on her notepad. Cassandra could make out the slight cracks on the wood where his grip was sinking into the beam, but decided against reprimanding him for it. "Get Blackie ta do it."

"Where is Raven?" she wondered aloud. "I haven't seen her all day."

Nobody answered her.

"Well, I also don't think that she can take on a fleet of ships on her own," Cassandra reasoned. "So it looks like you're gonna have to do some work around here."

Damien abruptly dropped his legs, eliciting a cry of delight from the very surprised first mate. She managed to snag onto his foot and swing around, flipping gracefully forward. They landed simultaneously, Lyn throwing her arms dramatically into the air. "Ta-da!"

The scarred warrior lumbered up and crouched down in front of his captain. "Th' fuck you talkin' about, shi'y Cap'n? Yer the one readin' a book with 'er tits 'angin' out."

"They are not," Cassandra said with mild indignation. She briefly reflected that she would have attempted to kill him a few months back for making such a crass comment. He would have probably beaten the daylights out of her for it and they would have gone their separate ways. "I just want to know if you'll handle a few ships for us."

"Not in th' mood," he grumbled, sitting beside her and snatching an apple from her pile.

"Hey, no stealing," she said, hitting him with a discarded apple core. "And I hate it when you're not in the mood to fight. It's always when I need you to do some actual fighting."

He gave a bark of laughter and lay back next to her, crunching into the juicy fruit. "Yer allowed ta take a break an' I ain'? Fuck you."

"Yeah, Captain, give him a break!" Lyn shouted as she plopped down onto Damien's stomach. "We all gotta get some rest. Remember, he went up against a Shishikubai!"

"Shichibukai," Raven corrected, appearing on the railing beside her. "The Albino Panther is a far greater fighter than he is."

"Fuck you too," he growled half-heartedly.

Cassandra patted him lightly on the leg. "To be fair, you were nearly dead. To be unfair, you're always nearly dead. I-"

"Captain!" Alexander yelled. "There's something else I think you should see."

Rubbing her forehead tiredly, she twisted around again and yelled back, "What is it, Alexander?"

"Two men who I certainly don't remember being welcome here," he responded, beginning to descend the rigging to the main deck.

The sniper instantly knew who he was talking about. Sighing loudly, she gestured for Lyn to tie her bikini strings at her back. When the first mate was finished, Cassandra got to her feet and threw the towel over her shoulders. Grabbing her cowboy hat off of a nearby belaying pin, she sauntered over to the railing and glanced overboard. She raised her eyebrows at what lay behind her ship.

The small armada steadily closing in was intriguing, but not nearly as much as the tiny rowboat between it and the _Howling Knave_. The small craft was speeding rapidly towards them, twin plumes of water jetting skyward in its wake. The source of this incredible speed was swiftly discernable as Cain pumping his arms madly while Morgan huddled in the front of the boat. The bodyguard slowed his strokes as they approached and managed to only overshoot the pirates by a few shiplengths. Cassandra couldn't help but grin as he laboriously brought the rowboat around and eventually pulled up alongside the ship.

"We made it," he panted, letting his arms sag in exhaustion.

Cassandra nodded, still staring pensively down at them. They were indeed wearing black gloves like she had requested and she was pleased to see their choices. Morgan was wearing a fingerless glove on his left hand, no doubt using it to cover up the bullet hole she had placed there the day before. Cain had selected an armored gauntlet not dissimilar to Damien's and wore it on his right. This was peculiar, since Cassandra remembered him being left-handed. Dismissing it, she focused once more on what to do with the persistent bandits.

"Hey, you're back!" Lyn bubbled, jumping off the ship to land on Cain's broad shoulders.

"I am indeed," he boomed, steadying her lightly. "And we've brought some gifts."

The pirate captain's eyes narrowed as she saw the small stack of papers in his offered hand. Snatching it from him, she leaned on the railing and stared at it. Lyn bounded back up to the main deck while Alexander wandered up behind her. Raven appeared on the railing next to her, also curious about the papers.

"Bounties…" Alexander observed with a gleam in his eye.

Cassandra nodded as she looked at the familiar faces. The first was of a woman who had been photographed in mid-twirl, her green hair obscuring part of her face. The visible portion of her head was an expression of determined anger. The photographer had done a good job in capturing an artistic moment, but had failed to provide bounty hunters with a clear shot of the target. Below the picture read:

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

"_Forest Nymph" Alsea Spriggs_

_5,000,000 Beli_

"Crucifix…" Lyn breathed.

"She actually got a pretty low bounty," Cain said from below them. "Her and the next one."

The following bounty was of a woman looking back at the camera from behind a pink parasol. Her plump lips were pursed in a disapproving pout and her eyes sparkled with dissatisfaction. Behind her, the back of a shield could be seen hovering in midair, obscuring the background completely.

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

"_Defender" Cecile De__ë__te_

_5,000,000 Beli_

"Cecile is a pretty name," Alexander commented.

Cassandra flipped to the next poster and gave a small grin. The villainous scowl of the reptilian Zoan user took up most of the shot, his single eye glaring angrily at the camera. His grotesque dorsal attachments glinted in the corner of the shot and his two-pronged trident could be seen off to the side. His venomous fangs were visible in his half-open mouth, dripping translucent liquid.

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

"_Human Sea King" Laocoon Sarthara_

_25,000,000 Beli_

"He looks awesome!" Lyn exclaimed.

Alexander chortled. "And he's every bit as dangerous as he looks."

The fourth bounty had quite a curious picture. Roughly a third of the shot was taken up by part of an out-of-focus circle. A heavily-pierced face peered around the circle, a maniacal grin on her face. Her pink mohawk dipped into the frame, cutting her forehead in two. It seemed miraculous that the cameraman had survived the rocket that had undoubtedly been shot at him from point blank range.

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

"_Trigger Happy" Toni Cocklin_

_25,000,000 Beli_

"A fitting nickname," Raven droned. "She had impulse control issues on par with Damien and Lyn."

"You're comparing me to her and Damien?" asked the first mate. "Sweet!"

Cassandra rolled her eyes as she turned to the next poster. This picture, unlike the ones before it, was much more relaxed. It was a side shot of Deus sitting on a grassy hill, staring up at the sky. His nine-foot katana was stuck in the ground to his right, casting a shadow on the ground beside him. His blue gi fell open slightly, revealing his muscular torso. A small smile was on his lips and he seemed perfectly content.

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

_Deus "Skycleaver"_

_25,000,000 Beli_

"What a fuckin' joke," Damien growled in Cassandra's ear, causing her to jump slightly. Last time she had checked, he was lying peacefully on the forecastle deck. "I 'ope my picture ain' so fuckin' lame."

"I think it's a good one," Alexander disagreed. "Just because he's as strong as you doesn't mean he's as wild."

Damien grunted at this as the sniper flipped to the final piece of paper. The height difference between the photographer and the rebel was noticeable, as the picture was taken at an odd angle. The thick chain hung around the man's lack of neck and his wide mouth was set in an even line. His beady eyes were fixed on some point in the distance and his sunglasses were perched just as precariously as ever on the bridge of his nose.

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

"_Rolling Thunder" Ethin Vale_

_30,000,000 Beli_

"Hey, why does he have the highest bounty?" Lyn objected. "He didn't have to go against General Taylor or the Albino Panther or Excel or anything! That's not fair!"

"He is the new leader of the resistance," Cassandra reminded her, setting the paper on the deck beside her. "He is the bigger threat because of his position. I don't doubt that Naga or Deus is actually stronger, but he's a figurehead. If they want to stop the rebels, they need him taken down more urgently." She glanced down at the two bandits, especially the one who had remained silent this entire time. "And why did you show me these? Was there a point?"

Cain used his elbow to nudge Morgan, whose grey eyes were fixed on the two male pirates. Without averting his gaze, he handed one more poster to his bodyguard, who dutifully passed it up to the pirate captain. "Those bounties were only released on Reichmann Island. This one was released everywhere."

Cassandra gasped as she saw the picture. There was no mistaking the blue locks of hair or the white cowboy hat holding them in place, the sharp hazel eyes or the arrogant and wild grin, the silver pistol held up in the edge of the picture or the Jolly Roger stitched on the glove holding it. She dimly heard her crew minus Raven erupt into congratulatory cheers, but paid them no heed. Her fingers lightly brushed the poster as she stared at what was unquestionably her own face. Her eyes flicked down to see the text underneath and widened as she read it.

_Wanted_

_Dead or Alive_

_Cassandra Libera "The Insidious Amaranth"_

_50,000,000 Beli_

"Abou' fuckin' time," Damien thundered, roughly tousling her hair.

"What a pretty nickname!" Lyn yelled. "And look how much you got!"

"I think that's actually low considering all the things you've done," Alexander commented. "But I thought your last name was Negras."

Cassandra nodded, but there wasn't a piece of her that thought for an instant it was a mistake. There was only one person who could have done this. "My father…" she started, but faltered as she was overcome with emotion. The true implications of her changed name hit her and she sunk to the deck.

"What is it?" Alexander asked, getting down to her level. "What about your father?"

"That bastard," she chuckled as she shook her head. "I hate him and love him so much."

"Yer no' makin' any fuckin' sense, 'arlot," Damien grumbled.

The sniper leaned her head back against his leg and stared up at him with teary eyes. "He's the one who told them to print that name, I don't doubt. In one move, he's completely cast me out of the family and given me permission to go out on my own."

"Permission?" Lyn and Alexander asked.

Cassandra explained. "You see, my family speaks two languages and in that second language, 'libera' means 'free woman.' He's telling me I'm free."

"Incredible!" Lyn shouted. "You can speak two languages?"

The alchemist bopped her on the head. "That's not the incredible part, Lyn."

She bopped him right back. "Then what is the incredible part, Aaaleeex?"

"Alexander," he corrected automatically before shooting a brief glare in her direction. "The good part is that Captain doesn't have to worry about her past life any more. She is, as her new name states, a free woman."

Cassandra nodded as she got to her feet and handed the bounty to her first mate. "What do you think we should do with it?"

"Put it underneath the face I carved in the galley, duh!" Lyn burst out, rushing off to do that very thing.

The pirate captain turned back to the two bandits and bowed her head. "Thank you for this. I mean it. Now, let's get down to business." She took a breath to rid herself of any excess emotions. "I believe I posed a third condition that you two did satisfy. There will be one more that I think you'll be able to handle. Let me just say that if you do this, you will be official Black Glove Pirates. After all, I am a woman of my word-"

"No you're not," Alexander contradicted impishly. "Even your nickname disputes that."

She gave him a look that promised swift ejection from the ship if he didn't hold his tongue. "Anyway, here's the fourth condition: each of my four crewmembers will give you a set of rules you must follow. This really only applies to you, Morgan, as Cain has already demonstrated his trustworthiness. Cain, your fourth condition is to take Raven and get rid of the people chasing us."

"That would be our fault," the massive bandit said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "We kind of attracted the attention of the Reichmann navy when we left."

Cassandra groaned. "Then it makes so much more sense for you to deal with it. Don't worry, we won't hurt your charge... much."

Cain looked unsure as to whether she was joking or not, but lifted the elementalist onto the main deck and began rowing away. Raven flitted to the small rowboat and the pair sped off. The captain turned her eyes to the bandit prince, who was glowering at her. "What?" she demanded.

"I don't understand you," he said, cocking his head back ever so slightly. "Why do you have all these rules?"

She shrugged and turned to the bow of the ship. "I don't trust you. It's that simple."

"Did the others have to earn your trust?" he inquired.

"No, but the others didn't attack me," she argued.

"Uh-uh!" Lyn interrupted. "I attacked you, Damien nearly beat the snot out of you and Raven attacked you!"

Morgan's eyes turned a darker grey and flashed furiously. "Is this so? In that case, I demand to be treated fairly!"

A roar of amused laughter drew everyone's attention to Damien, who was leaning against the mast. "Fair? 'Oo ever said pira's were fuckin' fair? Clean the shit ou'a yer ears an' lissen good, shitstain. Yer lucky y' ain' beggin' on yer knees like a fuckin' 'ore."

"Excuse me?" Morgan raged, rounding on the mirthful navigator. "I ought to be doing what? You may have been on this crew for longer than I have, but I am still your superior by birth-"

Cassandra had to admit that she enjoyed what happened next. One moment, Damien was barking with laughter next to the mast, the next he was grinding Morgan's face into the deck. It was a surprising burst of speed, one that her eyes easily tracked. However, to the elementalist and the other pirates, it must have seemed like he had moved as fast as Raven could. He put his dripping fangs next to Morgan's ear and growled threateningly, "Birth? Yer birth ain' worth shit 'ere. Grovel before us like the shiteatin' worm you are. Yer the one beggin' t' be part o' th' crew. We don' give a rat's ass if you live or die."

"Damien, that's enough," the pirate captain cut in, stepping forward. "I think you've made your point."

She saw him lunge toward her and reflexively jumped, flying up and over his muscular form. Her hand instinctively went to her shoulder holster, only to remember she had taken it off to sunbathe. She really had been caught off-guard by the navigator's sudden attack, an indication that she was letting her relaxation get the best of her. Even when she was trying to relax, she should have been more prepared. As Damien turned on his heel, Cassandra registered Morgan putting himself between the two pirates and shouting, "Maki Maki no Ishi!"

The fist of rock that slammed into the navigator's form managed to bring him to a halt, which was enough for Alexander and Lyn to throw themselves on him. His elbow connected with Alexander's gut and the heel of his palm found Lyn's chin, sending them both flying off of his body. He dodged to the side to avoid Morgan's next punch and darted forward, crashing into the rock elemental. Cassandra watched as the Paramecia user was pushed out of the stone body, causing the golem to crumble from existence. She vowed to start keeping weapons stashed around the ship and ran to her quarters to fetch a few of her knives. A loud splash indicated that the two fighters had landed, which was quite troublesome as someone would have to fetch Morgan before he drowned.

Exiting the women's room, she saw Damien explode from the water in a burst of steam and fly towards the ship. Lyn apparently knew what she had to do and dove overboard to retrieve the drowning elementalist. Alexander dashed out of his room trumpet in hand, ready to deal with his unpredictable friend. The sniper vaulted over the railing and hit the deck at the same time as Damien, causing them both to eye each other warily.

"What are you doing, mate?" Alexander asked, bringing his trumpet close to his lips. "What are you attacking her for?"

Damien's only response was a sadistic grin that revealed his metal teeth. He ripped out a small chunk of the deck and lobbed it at the musician, forcing the latter to duck to avoid it. The navigator seized the opportunity to bolt towards his captain, using all four limbs to cross the relatively small space. Cassandra tried a different tactic and dropped to the ground, stabbing upwards with her knives. She managed to catch him in the gut with one blade, but the other deflected off a rib. His hand shot down and snagged her arm, sharp claws digging in as he passed overhead. He rolled to a stop and yanked her towards him, twisting her arm hard enough to tear the ligaments in her shoulder and cause her to shout in pain. That was before her bit down on her exposed neck, his canines sinking into her skin.

Her scream of agony was evidently enough to draw Raven back to the ship. The black-clad doctor appeared behind the navigator in a heartbeat holding two wickedly-curving knives. She brought them down forcefully, but his metal wings were partially spread out by then, deflecting the blades away. This left Raven with very little room to attack his torso or neck from the back or sides. She sped in front of him, which thankfully caused him to release his hold on the sniper and toss her aside. Cassandra staggered to a halt, her left hand dangling by her side while her right comforted the rapidly-closing wound on her neck.

"Why do you keep such a monster aboard?" Morgan snarled as Lyn dumped him discourteously onto the deck.

Cassandra kept her glare fixed on the navigator ineffectively swatting at Raven while she tried to penetrate his defense. "Sometimes, I can't help but wonder the same thing. However, he is my navigator and my best fighter."

"Best fighter?" Lyn asked, rubbing the bruise forming on her chin. "What about Raven?"

"She is my best assassin," Cassandra explained. She rotated her shoulder to make sure it was setting properly and smiled as Raven struck Damien in the neck, sending him crashing to the floor. "And a fantastic doctor. Lyn is my first mate and Alexander is my musician, alchemist and apparently my second mate."

"Second mate?" Alexander got off the ground with pleasant surprise on his face.

The sniper managed to tear her gaze away from Raven injecting a syringe into Damien's neck. "Well, yeah. It makes sense, what with the crew expanding and with your promotion to first mate while I was away."

Morgan waved his hands energetically, shaking water droplets everywhere. "Whatever, I don't care about them! I want to know why you let such a psychopath stay aboard your ship!"

She chose to delay the question for a moment to deliberately infuriate him. "Raven, when you're done, I do want you to finish up with Cain. I don't want them hounding us to Reverse Mountain." The petite woman dipped her head once and turned back to the downed navigator. "As for your question, Morgan, I believe it is none of your concern."

"None of my concern?" He was nearly apoplectic with rage. "If I am going to be part of your crew, it is very much my concern! I don't want to live in perpetual fear of being beaten to a pulp!"

"Well, that's what life here is like," Cassandra snapped. "Welcome to the Black Glove Pirates. My first mate is off-limits, my navigator's uncontrollable and my doctor's emotionless. Alexander is really the most normal of us all and that's a good thing, because he's also the most versatile."

"I don't give a damn about how useful Alexander is!" he spat, pointing his finger at Damien's prone form. "I want him gone! I don't want a demon like him on the same ship as me!"

He froze as three things happened at once. Lyn grabbed him from behind, Alexander planted a hand on his chest and Cassandra drew her knife back in preparation to throw it. The musician stared up at the bandit with ire in his eyes. "If it's a choice between you and him, we'd go with him, Zematsal. He may be crazier than Lyn and Captain put together, but he's part of this crew. You can't claim as much yet."

"He's a health risk!" Morgan shouted.

"He's a good man!" Lyn argued back.

Cassandra and Alexander shared a long look. "I… wouldn't go that far," the alchemist said slowly. "But he is my best friend and I'll stand by him no matter what."

"So if it was a choice between him and her," Morgan sneered, jabbing his head in Cassandra's direction, "who would you choose?"

Alexander faltered at this, obviously conflicted by this statement. Cassandra saved him by chucking the knife and nicking the elementalist's ear. "He won't make that choice. We're going back to you. Do you accept the condition that each current crewmember will give you a rule that you cannot break?"

The bandit prince looked unsure, but nodded nevertheless. "I do."

"Then this is my rule," Alexander told him. "You must follow any order given by any crewmember. That includes Cain and Damien. You cannot give any orders either."

Morgan's eyes widened with rage and his eyes took on the color of storm clouds. "I am to be the lowest member of this crew? I think not!"

Cassandra cocked her head to the side, a dark smile spreading across her lips. "So you're saying you don't want to be part of my crew?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it a moment later. He cast a hate-laden look in the musician's direction and grudgingly nodded. "I accept."

"Good," Alexander confirmed. "Now go clean the men's quarters."

"I will no-" Morgan began, before realizing that going against the order would be violating the condition set by the captain. "I am not some deckhand!" he hissed. "I am a prince!"

"You _were_ a prince," Lyn emphasized. "You _are_ now a pirate! And as you don't have an official position yet, you're just a chore boy! Now get going or we'll bring out the big guns!"

Morgan gave a broad smirk. "Oh? And what exactly are these 'big guns?'"

The three pirates glanced down at the slumbering navigator, who seemed to be perfectly content lying on the ground. Morgan's eyes widened and he hastened into the men's quarters. Cassandra and Alexander couldn't help but laugh at the sound of him falling to the floor below and cursing loudly. Lyn looked at both of them, confusion evident on her face. "I don't get it," she whined. "What's so funny?"

The pirate captain leaned on the railing, still chuckling lightly. "Nothing, Lyn. Nothing at all."

\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\'/.\\

Cassandra let her head rest on the edge of the wooden mast as she stared up at the sky. Her position in the masthead gave her unobstructed vision of the surrounding seas and what lay on the horizon. A league or two out, the world seemed to terminate in a peculiar haze, which wasn't too unexpected. They were approaching Reverse Mountain, after all. The reason she was up there was that they needed the sharpest set of eyes to get onto the Grand Line without wrecking the ship. Ideally they would have their expert navigator on the helm, but he was being punished for the first time that she could remember.

She stood up and peered over the edge of the crow's nest to see how exactly Damien was taking it. He was wrapped in rope that had been transmuted into metal by Alexander, who agreed that the unpredictable man could not continue to act the way he did with impunity. The rope was attached to the rear of the ship and trailed some distance into the _Howling Knave_'s wake. He bobbed at the end like a metal-filled cork, submerging for lengthy periods of time before briefly breaking the surface to breathe. The theory was that if he tried to melt his way through the metal, he would instead heat up the water around him. So far it proved to be successful, as he hadn't broken free yet, but Cassandra knew he could probably free himself if he really tried. She shrugged and turned away. She had given up trying to reason through her navigator's actions long ago.

Her gaze fell upon the two men currently repairing the ship. Cain was proving to be quite good at fixing the structural damage that the _Howling Knave_ had accumulated over the few months it had been in her possession. The rowboat and a few supply crates had been dismantled for spare lumber to fix the essential parts of the ship that needed repair. He had just spent most of the day clearing away the burned bits of the deck and masts and was now replacing the lost bits of wood. It was satisfactory, but would probably have to be replaced within an island or two.

Her lips curved upwards as she found where her newest crewmember had gotten to. Lyn had taken to referring to him as such, for Cain had been aboard the ship since Winter Isle, and it annoyed the former prince to no end. Morgan was suspended from topmost mizzenmast yard, ill-temperedly sewing a patch onto the sail. His interactions with the other crewmembers had been brief, to say the least. He was completely out of place on this ship, quite unlike his onetime bodyguard, who was conversing freely with Alexander and Lyn. Quite frankly, she still wasn't sure if keeping him on board was a good idea. Her only consolation was that she could have him eliminated without a problem.

She couldn't help but let out a shout of surprise as the skies opened up above her and let loose a furious barrage of rain. She ignored her crewmembers' cries of shock and turned her gaze upwards. Five seconds ago, the sky had been clear and blue. Now, the sun was obscured by roiling black storm clouds which were apparently attempting to submerge the _Howling Knave_. She could only think of one reason the weather would change so suddenly. They were almost at the foot of Reverse Mountain.

"How's it looking, Captain?" asked the Baby Den-Den Mushi sticking to the rim of the crow's nest. "Are we close?"

"We are," Cassandra confirmed. "Tell Cain to hoist Damien up. We'll need him on the helm instead of you, Lyn. No offense."

"Of course not!" the mechanized snail bubbled. "He's our navigator! But he's already up here!"

Cassandra did a double-take and raced to the other side of the masthead. Sure enough, Damien was at the helm, steam rising from his lean body. The tiny snail adopted a curious expression, a combination of anger and joy that its face couldn't quite pull off. "Yahahar, Cap'n! Yeh didn' think yeh could sail this without me, didjyeh? We're onna crash course now if I'm no' on th' wheel an' yer no' tellin' me wha's in our way!"

"What are you talking about?" she screamed. "And how the hell did you manage to get yourself up there?"

He glanced up at her and his head momentarily burst into flame. "Eyes front, beaverlicker. We're already caught in th' current. Only two options now: Grand Line or fuckin' pancake on th' Red Line. 'S why I need you t' tell me where I need t' turn. So turn the fuck around an' do yer cuntin' job!"

Cassandra grudgingly admitted that he was right. She strode to the other end of the crow's nest and peered into the gloom. Shielding her eyes against the rain, she could vaguely make out something gigantic emerging in the distance. It was soon apparent that whatever it was – and the pirate captain had an extremely good idea what it was – was bigger than the _Howling Knave_. Much bigger. There was something wrong with it, however. She couldn't make out any details at all, which was peculiar. Even in this dim light, she should be able to make out the surface of the Red Line. The irregularity of the cliff face should be visible by now.

Her eyes widened as she remembered something else that was big enough to obscure the horizon before them. She was fairly certain of her guess, as Sea Kings wouldn't venture this far out of the Calm Belt unless they were chasing food. Her stomach plunged as she realized what the titanic sea monsters would probably need to eat for survival, but she hoped what lay before her was only slightly less massive than that.

"Damien!" she yelled, panic audible in her voice. "Get Cain and go to the bow!"

"You gone crazy, ya daft cunt!" he roared. "'Oo else can be at the 'elm?"

"We have a situation here!" she shouted before realizing she was just wasting time. "There's an Island Whale in our way!"

The Baby Den-Den Mushi gave a confused frown. "The fuck is that?"

"It's a huge fucking whale!" she bellowed. "Huge fucking whale! And we're about to ram into it if you and that mass of muscle don't divert us away somehow!"

"An' jus' 'ow th' fuck d' you 'spect us ta do tha'?" he argued.

Growling, she drew a pistol and shot him in the head. Unsurprisingly, this drew his attention away and he bounded away from the helm. She heard Lyn shouting orders to Cain, who instantly grabbed the navigator and went to the front of the ship. This attracted Alexander's attention and he followed the pair to the bow. The three pirates all stood facing the humongous animal with very little clue about what they were supposed to do.

Astonishingly, Alexander made the first move. He brought the trumpet up to his lips and let loose a mighty blast of sound. This turned the ship ever so slightly, but Cassandra could see the whale's blubbery flesh vibrate from the attack. The sound that followed next was simply incredible. Cassandra was sent to the floor of the masthead in pain as the whale vocally responded. Her sensitive eardrums felt like they were about to rupture from the aquatic mammal's bellow. In fact, she wasn't entirely sure they didn't. Her Devil Fruit would repair any damage caused before she could register it.

She was nearly thrown from the ship entirely as the _Howling Knave_ suddenly bucked to the right. She clung to the mast in panic and tried not to wince as she heard a loud _crack_ emanate from the front of the ship. Carefully bracing herself against the bottom of the crow's nest, she peeked over the edge to see the ship pressing up against the whale's side. Damien and Cain were pushing against the enormous animal's flank with all their strength, which was probably the reason the ship hadn't been smashed apart by the impact. However, even Cassandra could detect the ocean currents pressing the vessel against the Island Whale. Her two strongest crewmembers were attempting to slide the _Knave_ along the thick flesh, but Island Whales had their name for a reason. The odds of going along the entire length of the beast before the currents broke the ship apart were slim.

Suddenly, the entire ship vibrated as the whale began to move. It wasn't evident what was happening at first, but soon Cassandra felt the ship inch sideways. This lateral movement grew in speed and the flank of the massive mammal began to curve. She was the first to cheer as she realized the Island Whale was submerging and would leave the path to Reverse Mountain unobstructed. The rest of the crew soon joined in, with the exception of the drenched and obviously miserable former prince clinging to the rigging below her.

"We're still movin'!" Damien roared, rushing back to the poop deck. "So wha's it lookin' like, Cap'n?"

Now that the whale was out of the way, she could accurately see the Red Line. More importantly, she could see the small crack that was the narrow canal that led up the mountain. She had given up thinking about how the water flowed uphill against the force of gravity, but she really didn't care. What mattered was that getting past the Island Whale had veered them off course. As her navigator so accurately put it, they were about to be flattened against the wall of stone.

"Damien! Turn to the left! To the left!" she screamed. The howling wind swept away her words, but the grunt the Baby Den-Den Mushi gave in response indicated that the berserker had heard. The ship continued to accelerate towards the slender stream, but it was increasingly apparent that the ship was going to crash into the rocks. They needed to somehow get the ship over a ship length or so. Damien was doing his best on the wheel, but that would only get them over half of the required distance.

It was then that she was struck with an idea. It was a crazy idea that she wouldn't have followed had someone else come up with it, but it was the only thing she could think of. Leaping out of the crow's nest, she plummeted towards the deck below. She snagged a rope at the last second, dislocating her shoulder in the process. Dropping the rest of the way to the deck and popping her arm back into place, she began shouting orders.

"Lyn, grab the wheel and try not to budge! Morgan, put on your stone armor, as much of it as you can! Raven, go to the starboard cannons and prepare to fire on my signal! Damien, Cain, Morgan, get to the starboard side of the deck! When I count to three, run to the other side! Alexander, that's your cue to do your trumpet deal off the starboard side and for Raven to shoot the cannons! Everyone clear?"

"Aye!" they all shouted, scurrying to their various positions.

Cassandra gave them ten seconds to get to where they needed to be before counting off. "One! Two! Three!"

The _Howling Knave_ gave a furious lurch as all of its cannons were shot almost synchronously. The nose turned even more as Alexander blew his trumpet as hard as he could. The combined weight of the final three pirates was enough to cause the ship to complete its veering maneuver. Cassandra raced to the figurehead and stared at the approaching canal. They were going to make it, but it would be close.

With a mighty crack, the ship entered the upwards river with its starboard side clipping the stone wall. The railing was stripped from bow to stern and a good portion of the side of the ship was shorn off, exposing the interior to the elements. She rushed to see the damage and was pleased to note the gaping hole in the ship was at least above water level. Yes, the _Howling Knave_ was in desperate need for repairs.

"We did it, Captain!" Lyn shouted joyously, wrapping her in a tight hug. "We're going to the Grand Line!"

Cassandra embraced her back, only to frown and pull away. "Wait, if you're here, then who's at the helm?"

"Damien, duh!" the first mate replied bluntly. "Now come on! Let's watch us go up and up and up!"

The pounding river bore them skywards and each pirate was left with their own thoughts. Cassandra thought of all that she had accomplished in West Blue and all of the people she had picked up. She brought her left hand to her mouth, feeling the Jolly Roger on her lips. She shook the water from her hair and leaned her head on Lyn's shoulder, comforted by her presence. It seemed unreal that she had come so far, but she knew that there was so much to accomplish. She felt Lyn rest her head on her captain's and grinned lightly.

"To play a concert for the entire world!" Alexander shouted spontaneously, raising his trumpet into the air.

They all looked at him strangely before Lyn joined in. "To see the ends of the world!" she yelled, thrusting her gloved fist upwards.

"To make the world's best weapon!" Cain bellowed, picking up on what was going on.

They were approaching the summit. "To become a great leader!" Morgan called.

"T' be th' bes' fuckin' figh'er in th' world!" Damien roared.

Raven appeared on Cassandra's other side, staring emotionlessly at the water crashing in midair at the peak. "To create a perfect art of fighting and killing."

The pirate captain glanced down at her friend in surprise, but swiftly turned her attention back to the four rivers colliding in a rainbow spray of color. As the_ Howling Knave_ rose up into the sky, she thrust her arms up and turned her face to the heavens. "To become Queen of the Pirates!"

* * *

I hope you've enjoyed the last chapter of the Black Glove Pirates. I certainly did.


	67. Epilogue

And this is just to finish it off. Let's take a quick peek at what's going on elsewhere...

* * *

_Somewhere in the Calm Belt..._

Eirwyn Negras kept his face passive as he stared at the people gathered around the table. This was a very important meeting and he looked his best. His hands were clasped in front of him, clad in his traditional black gloves. His freshly-tailored suit fit him perfectly and made him seem even more imposing. His dark blue hair that he had fortunately passed on to both of his daughters was hidden by the odd lighting. His icy eyes, the only part of him visible to the others, were filled with incredible power that he kept perfectly in check. It wouldn't do to have the head of the most powerful assassin family in the world look anything other than lethal.

"I call to order this first official gathering of this new age of assassins," he said calmly. Silence fell at his statement. Pleased at this, he stared at the other six heads and began the introduction to the newest member. "I am Eirwyn Black Glove."

The absence of his last name was deliberate. While he knew that each of the others knew it, it was an unspoken rule never to speak the family name. It was for other assassins to pass down among their own families.

He turned to the man at his left, who bowed his head. "I am Laozi the Engineer." Eirwyn knew the man through and through. Not only had he fought with and against the Engineer mutiple times during the past few decades, but it was part of the test for assassin families. You had to know your opponents as well as you know your allies. Laozi Kung-Liang's dark brown eyes glittered with intelligence that was not under any circumstances to be underestimated.

The next person around the table spoke up. "I am Payton Thousand Face." This one irritated Eirwyn to no end. Despite knowing perfectly well the assassin's name, Payton Lovat, he had had no luck in ascertaining the leader's gender. It wasn't that he had never seen Payton's face, far from it. But true to the nickname, Thousand Face never had the same appearance twice. Eirwyn had seen Payton as both a man and a woman, and his superior senses hadn't detected the truth. Even Lovat's eyes were not consistent, changing daily. They were currently an attractive hazel color that reminded him of his eldest daughter. He suspected this was intentional.

"I am Cleopatra Brighteyes," the next head stated. Cleopatra Bast was the one assassin Eirwyn trusted the least out of the heads, if that were possible. It wasn't that the others were particularly trustworthy in and of themselves. It was that the entire Bast family were well-known nobility around the world and fooled everyone equally. It was almost insulting how open they were with their identities. The woman's golden eyes sparkled with amusement as her gaze roved over the gathered assassins.

"I am Aristo the Philosopher." Eirwyn always approached the Teles' with a healthy caution and Aristo Teles was no exception. They were all slightly eccentric, but Eirwyn supposed that had a lot to do with how they chose to execute their targets. His yellow-green eyes were slitted and bestial, which caused visible discomfort for the penultimate assassin leader.

"I am Tomoe Bloodrage." And here was the whole point of this meeting, to introduce the new head into the fold. Tomoe Oshu was the youngest of the heads by far, but that was mostly because the Oshus tended to have shorter lifespans than most assassins, and that was saying a lot. Her crimson irides told them that she was in a near-perpetual state of berserk fury and had subsequently mastered it.

When the seventh head remained silent, Eirwyn struggled to refrain from rolling his eyes. Such a behavior would be unseemly of an assassin head, the energetic Bast being the exception. Sarmil Skri was almost impossible to pick out of the darkness, mostly because his eyes were solid black. Only though multiple encounters with the formidable assassin and his family had Eirwyn figured out where the head was looking. After the silence stretched out for a few minutes, the Negras gave the faintest of sighs and introduced the final leader. "And this is Sarmil, Son of the Eighth. Now that we are all introduced, it is time to get down to business. We are here to discuss the availability of heirs. We assassins do not live long lives, as you are aware Bloodrage, and the succession must be kept."

"Well that's easy," Cleopatra interjected. "I have one child and she is going to be my heir. Guinevere is an assassin with top marks and her connection to the other families is impressive, to say the least."

"No hesitation with me, either," Aristo followed. "Pythia is the logical choice. She is much better than her sibling and, being the eldest, is much more experienced in such things. My wife and I have been preparing her for this her entire life."

"I am thinking in a manner similar to the Philosopher and choose the oldest child for my heir," Laozi intoned, his exotic accent making his words sound melodious and smooth. "The choice is Yin's by right. It does not matter that she is the best assassin my family has seen in years, but it certainly helps her position."

Eirwyn stared at the other heads, waiting for them to speak. After much deliberation, Tomoe spoke up next. "With all respect to the Philosopher and to the Engineer, I must give the position to my younger daughter. Miyagino is too reckless and wild, too impulsive and overcome by bloodlust to shoulder the responsibilities of being my heir. Shinobu is much better suited for the position."

Payton's annoyingly hazel eyes dipped in agreement. "I am following the newest member's example and not choosing my oldest. Jordan is the best at my family's style, especially with the Devil Fruit we acquired. Jordan will be a Thousand Face to rival all those before us."

The Negras nodded in acceptance and turned to the man at his left. A small smile graced his lips, for he knew the turmoil going on inside Sarmil's mind. "And you, Son of the Eighth, who do you choose?"

"You know perfectly well I have no set heir." The man managed to convey anger and hatred while keeping a perfectly monotone voice. "My eldest son seems to have vanished from the face of the earth. My youngest son is adequate, but not skilled enough and not strong enough to be head. My optimal choice, _Black Glove_, was stolen from me." There was no doubt his empty eyes were focused on Eirwyn. "By your daughter."

Eirwyn's smile widened patronizingly, even though he knew Sarmil couldn't see it. "My daughter? Surely, you jest. My only daughter, my heir, has not ever seen your daughter."

There was movement from his left and something glided into the spotlight centered on the table before them. Eirwyn recognized the bounty poster instantly; he had helped create it, after all. "Cassandra Libera. Very droll, Black Glove, but we all know whose daughter she really is." Sarmil's emotionless gaze intensified. "Tell me, what are you going to do about this?"

"Why, nothing," the Negras replied, making sure to keep his amusement hidden. "She merely has a passing resemblance to my family. Besides, that woman is destined to do great things outside the world of assassins. I would not deprive her of that for anything."

The entire room erupted into chaos.

* * *

Well, this concludes this story. I hope you enjoyed it and I'll catch you later. There will be a sequel, but probably not for a few months. I have some other ideas that need to be written out.


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